#i can't stop thinking about it ever since summer sent /those/ pictures

[spnhunter4life]

Bullets and Ballgowns Chapter 3

Series Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Once again, so sorry for the long wait. I knew it had been a while but didn't realize it was a little over a month since the last chapter now. I'm still excited about this story and have so many ideas for it, and I spend a lot of time planning it out. Unfortunately, I'm having a really hard time making myself sit down and actually write it though. I actually already have a small start on chapter 4, so I really hope it won't take so long before the next update, but I can't make any promises. Hope you enjoy!

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(Whoops. Completely forgot about the header picture, so still don't have that. It'll probably show up eventually...)

The tea at the Winchester’s house came and went. It had been a pleasant experience. Mrs. Winchester was much as Anna had expected based on her mother’s stories. A bright, friendly woman who was easy to talk to. The three of them had a wonderful afternoon together talking about anything and everything. Anna even got a chance to have a short conversation with Sam when he came into the drawing room shortly before she and her mother left. Yes, it had been a very pleasant afternoon.

The carriage ride home had been less so. 

“Anna, we need to talk, darling,” her mother said shortly after leaving.

“Ok,” Anna agreed warily. Those words were rarely followed by good news.

Her mother seemed to hesitate, thinking over her words. After a moment, she sighed. “You must know that I want the best for you, that all a mother ever wants for her daughter is for her to be happy. For her to have all the things she'll ever need in life, and even for her to have all the things she wants.” Anna nodded in understanding, but there was a small frown of confusion on her face. 

“That's what I would wish for you,” her mother continued. “But you know as well as I that we don't always get what we want.” Anna could tell this last part was very meaningful to her mother, but she had no idea what her point was.

“I know that,” she said when her mother seemed to be waiting for a response.

“Then let me remind you that you are engaged.”

Anna stiffened slightly. She wasn't entirely sure what she was being accused of, but she did not like the turn this conversation had taken. “I haven't forgotten.” And then, after a brief pause, “I’m not sure what your point is, Mama.”

“There's no need to be so defensive, darling. I do not mean to reprimand you, only to give you a reminder and a warning. I know Mr. Sanders may not have been your first choice, but-”

“Not my first choice?” Anna asked incredulously. “He wasn't my choice at all! Papa planned it all out while I was visiting Aunt Jane in London! He may have sent a letter asking if I would agree to the arrangement, but it was more formality than anything. How could I possibly have said no when all the gentlemen were in agreement and not really concerned with my opinions?

“You must remember what it was like to be a young girl. To know how pointless and even foolish it is to hope to be one of the rare few who get to marry for love. But the problem with hope is that you can't just turn it off and stop feeling it, no matter how you might tell yourself to. 

“So yes, it's what I expected for myself. And I know Mr. Sanders is a good option and I should count myself lucky to spend my life with a kind young gentleman like him. I know I could have been promised to someone truly awful. But fortunate as I may be as far as arranged marriages go, it is still not what I hoped for for myself! I do not love him! I suppose I shall have to learn to one day, but until then I cannot just turn off my disappointment. That does not mean I don't plan to marry him or that I've forgotten about our engagement.”

“I am glad to hear it, though I did not think otherwise.”

“But you said-”

“I said I wanted to remind you, yes. I also said I wanted to warn you. I did not mean I was reminding you in the sense that I worried you’d forgotten, but in the sense that I want you to be careful. I do remember what it’s like to be a girl wishing for love. I remember what it feels like to meet a gentleman you hope will be that man. And I know what it looks like too. That’s not how you look at Mr. Sanders. Nor would I expect you to,” she hurriedly added, seeing the protest in Anna’s eyes. “After all, you hardly know the man. Perhaps that should change? It is perfectly possible for you to fall in love with him if you only take the time to get to know him.”

“It will be a long while before we are married, Mama. I imagine we shall have ample opportunity to get to know each other. Besides, he hardly seems worried about spending his time with me. What am I to do when he offers me only the barest amount of attention he can without seeming impolite?”

“Do not take it personally, darling. He is young and unsure of how to handle the situation. It does not mean he does not wish to know you,” her mother assured her.

“I know that. I can see that in his own way he is trying. But you cannot expect me to get to know him when doing so is entirely dependent on him.”

Her mother sighed in exasperation. “Alright, fine. If you cannot spend more time with your fiance, then perhaps instead you should be spending less time with other gentlemen.”

“Mama!” Anna cried. “You expect me to spend the whole season sitting on the edge of ballrooms, turning away any gentleman who offers a dance? Because I do not love the fiance that I did not choose for myself?”

“It is not because you are not in love. You can hardly help that. I only hoped you could make it easier on yourself by getting to know him so you could be in love. And I do not expect you to turn away every gentleman. Just the one.”

“I still do not know what you are talking about,” Anna huffed out a little more angrily than she intended. She was certain she had done nothing to deserve this warning from her mother.

Her mother sighed again, this time in resignation. In a calm, placating tone she said, “I told you I know what it looks like when a young lady has more than a passing interest in a gentleman. I see it plain as day on your face when you speak to Mr. Winchester.”

Her confusion must have shown clearly on her face. She thought back to her short conversation with Sam that afternoon and wondered how her mother could have interpreted it as anything more than friendship. 

If she’d only asked instead of making assumptions, we could have avoided this whole unpleasant ride, Anna thought bitterly to herself.

“Mama, you misunderstand my feelings. His feelings as well.” Her mother’s raised eyebrow was all the prompting she needed to continue. “Whatever it is you think you saw between us this afternoon, you are wrong. He is my friend. That is all.”

It was her mother’s turn to be confused, but it was quickly replaced with understanding. “I do not mean the younger Mr. Winchester,” she informed her.

Her meaning was clear enough. Anna fought against the panic that threatened to take control at those words and said calmly, “I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times, Mama. I barely know him.”

“Perhaps. But I know you. I saw how he caught your attention at the ball. I cannot fault you for that. After all, he is quite a handsome young man. I saw him catch the eye of many young ladies that night.” Anna knew how intentional this seemingly innocent statement was. Her mother was watching her carefully for a reaction. She was careful not to give her one. “Noticing a handsome face is not what concerns me,” she continued. 

“I saw you when you danced that night, and again when you walked at the park two days ago. The way you look at him… well you don’t look at anyone else that way. Certainly not Mr. Sanders. It’s like you’re hanging on to his every word. Like you do not dare look away from him or he may disappear and you’ll find out his existence was just some great trick. That is what concerns me.”

“You need not be concerned, Mama.”

“Do not lie to me, Anna,” her mother commanded, more disappointed than angry.

“I am not lying! Whatever it is you think you saw, he is my friend. Just as his brother is.”

“Not just as his brother is,” her mother disagreed.

“Yes! He knows I am engaged and has asked specifically if I might be his friend. So you see, there is nothing to worry about. I will not be creating a scandal by encouraging Mr. Winchester’s attentions when I am already engaged.”

“My dear, I never thought such a thing. I am not worried about a scandal, I am worried for your heart. I do not want it to break.” Anna started to protest, but her mother was quick to cut her off. “Deny it as much as you wish, but I know what I saw. I am only suggesting that perhaps you should end your friendship now, before you fall too much in love and end up getting hurt.”

~~~~~

It was three weeks later and Anna was walking by herself, replaying this conversation. In those three weeks, this year’s social season had meant frequent balls and teas and picnics. Keeping to his promise of being friends, Mr. Winchester had sought out her company at each and every function. She told herself it was harmless, that there had been no flirting of any kind from him and so as long as she kept herself in check – which she absolutely would – there was no reason to worry. 

And she still firmly believed that. But she couldn’t deny that the more she got to know him, the more strongly she felt for him. It was getting harder and harder to imagine a life where she was only allowed to be his friend, without ever having the chance of even a hope for more. 

Maybe it was time to bring this friendship of theirs to an end. It would be humiliating, of course, the conversation she would have to have with him to explain things. But in order to protect her own heart, she thought it might be necessary.

She was so lost in these thoughts that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. She had walked further than normal, going well past the boundary of her family’s land and heading into what was miles and miles of nothing but grass and hills and woods. 

She sighed at the realization of how far she’d gone and had just started to turn around when something in her peripheral vision made her stop. She looked up and gasped in fear. A low, warning growl accompanied a single step forward by the large wolf. It was a dark gray color, with matted fur and a torn ear. Its teeth were bared as it stared Anna down from a dozen yards away.

Heart racing and breath catching in her throat, Anna kept one eye on the wolf as she started scanning the rock and branch strewn ground for something she could use to defend herself. Most of the rocks were too big for her to lift, most of the broken off branches too small and weak to be a defense, more large sticks than true branches.

Anna knew better than to turn her back on a predator. She kept one eye on the animal as she slowly took a step back, still searching the ground. The wolf didn’t appear to like her moving and he let out another threatening growl. Anna froze. She didn’t want to provoke him into attacking, but she also couldn’t sit there defenseless and just wait for it to happen. She took another cautious step backwards. And another. The wolf continued his growling, but didn’t approach. Everything went wrong on her fourth step back.

Two large rocks that she hadn’t seen sat side by side, pressed against each other. Her foot knocked against them, right at the point where they met. She wobbled, fighting desperately to keep her balance. In the end, gravity won out and she fell down. Hard. The force of her fall wedged her foot between those two rocks and she knew it wasn’t coming back out easily. Her quick movement and obvious vulnerability provoked the wolf into a charge. A noticeable limp slowed him, but Anna still only had seconds. 

She yanked uselessly at her foot, hoping she could somehow manage to pull it free as she looked for anything nearby that she could so much as lift. There was a sturdy looking stick to her left, not as sturdy as she would have liked, but she had no other option. She picked it up just as a great boom shattered the air. Anna ducked reflexively before realizing how incredibly stupid that was. She hefted her stick, ready to swing, only to see the wolf crumpled and unmoving about five feet in front of her.

“Are you all right?” A voice asked from her right. Anna turned her head in the direction of the voice to see a man, gun in hand, running towards her. Of course if she’d been able to think clearly she would have recognized the voice immediately. It wasn’t until the man was kneeling in front of her, repeating his question, that the shock wore off and she took in the very concerned face of Dean Winchester.

“I’m all right,” she answered a little dazedly. “Thanks to you, I suppose,” she added, noting the gun sitting on the ground beside them and putting two and two together.

His head bowed down and a breath escaped his lips, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. “Thank God,” she heard him say quietly to himself. When he looked up again and his eyes met hers, she could see the relief written across his face. “Good,” he said. “Then let’s get you home.”

Under normal circumstances she would have turned down the offer. Innocent as it may be, if they were to be seen walking alone together, assumptions would be made and rumors spread. This was not a normal circumstance though – something which could be explained on the off chance they ran into anyone – and she found herself incredibly grateful to have company. The safe path she traveled frequently no longer felt safe, and she didn’t want to make the journey alone.

“Yes, please,” she agreed easily. Mr. Winchester chuckled as he stood and offered his hand. Anna started to reach for it, but then remembered her foot.

“I’m afraid my foot is rather badly stuck,” she informed him.

“Oh! Well I- I mean can you-” Mr. Winchester fumbled with his words for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Do you need me to help, or can you get it on your own?” He finally managed to say. Anna noticed the slightest red tint to his cheeks and couldn’t help but think how cute it was to see the normally confident man so ruffled.

“I believe I may need some help,” she admitted. It was possible she could do it on her own, but it would be difficult. Better to save time and just ask for assistance now. 

“Alright,” he agreed, voice sounding a little rough. As he once again knelt down beside her, Anna realized why Mr. Winchester had briefly struggled for words. In order to help her, he would have to touch her. She found herself fighting down her own blush at the thought.

This is perfectly acceptable, she told herself. Not that anyone was likely to be walking by, but even if they did, they could find nothing wrong with this interaction. It was only a gentleman helping a lady in distress. Something he seems to be particularly good at, she thought wryly. 

All humor faded and her breath caught in her throat as he reached for her. He carefully lifted the hem of her skirt, just enough to see her foot and the rocks holding it captive. He studied the scene for a moment and then gently grabbed the heel of her foot, cautiously wiggling it first side to side and then up and down to see how tightly it was stuck. He let her foot go and looked contemplatively at the rocks. “I should be able to move this rock enough for you to pull your foot out.”

Anna looked at the rock doubtfully. It was large enough to be heavy even for a man of Mr. Winchester’s size and could be partially buried snugly in the earth. It would not move easily. “Are you sure?” she asked as he grabbed hold of it with both hands. 

“The alternative is to yank on your foot until it comes loose, something I fear will cause you a great deal of pain. I’ll be able to move it,” he told her confidently when he saw her doubt. “Ready?”

Anna nodded. She watched his fingers turn white against the rock as he tried to pull it toward himself. No doubt, the muscles in his arms were tensed and visibly straining, but she couldn’t tell with his suit coat covering the evidence. It took only a couple of seconds before she felt the pressure against her ankle lessen. She was quick to lift her foot, not wasting any precious seconds. It was still a tight fit, and the rough surfaces of the rocks pressed her boot into her skin, bruising instead of scraping the skin raw. It didn’t feel good, but it wasn’t long before she was free.

Mr. Winchester let go of the rock, face red from exertion. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It hurts a little,” she admitted, downplaying the pain. It hurt more than a little, but she wasn’t about to complain. “But I believe I can walk.”

His lips quirked into a smile and, as it always did when he smiled at her, Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said as he stood up. “But that will not be necessary. Kaz is quite capable of carrying you.”

Anna frowned. Who was Kaz? She hadn’t even realized anyone else was here and she certainly didn’t need to be carried. She took the hand he offered to help her up, wincing slightly as she put pressure on her right foot. She quickly adjusted, resting her weight on her left foot. “Kaz?”

“My horse,” he explained. And then, in a teasing tone, “How else do you think I got here?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, I suppose.” She tried not to be embarrassed by her oversight. After all, she had a perfectly good reason. She looked over his shoulder, in the direction he had come running from and noticed the large, jet black mare standing there grazing as she patiently waited for her rider to return. “Wow,” she breathed out. “She’s beautiful.” Mr. Winchester beamed with pride.

“She is,” he agreed. He started in her direction and Anna followed, wincing when she stepped on her bad foot. Mr. Winchester noticed of course, and instructed her to stay put. He grabbed his discarded gun off the ground and put it back into the holster tied to the saddle before grabbing the reins and leading the horse over. 

“I know she’s big, but she’s gentle as they come,” he promised. Anna hadn’t been worried. She loved horses, almost as much as she loved music. She was awestruck at the sight of the powerful creature, and giddy at the idea of riding her. Mr. Winchester settled his hands on her waist and, after asking her if she was ready, lifted her up onto his horse’s back. Anna steadied herself in the saddle and then reached out to pet Kaz’s soft, warm neck. Reins in hand, Mr. Winchester encouraged the horse into a walk and started off in the direction of Anna’s house. 

“Why do you suppose he was all the way out here?” Anna wondered aloud. “I’ve never seen a wolf this close to home. I’ve never even heard of anyone seeing one around here.”

“He was desperate,” Mr. Winchester answered. “Did you see how badly he was limping? He was likely very hungry and not strong enough to catch anything, especially on his own, so he was hoping to find an easy kill like a chicken or a sheep.”

Anna hummed, considering this explanation. It certainly made sense. “And what about you?” she asked. “What are you doing all the way out here?” At a guess, this particular stretch of road was over five miles from his house. It was a long way to go just for a ride.

“I was just coming out for a hunt,” he explained. Of course, Anna thought. She should have realized that. In the time she had known him, she had learned that Mr. Winchester was an avid hunter. According to him, there was little he enjoyed more. “Good thing too, or I wouldn’t have been over this way. I certainly wouldn’t have had a gun.”

“Yes, I am grateful you were there. I don’t know that the stick I found would have been enough to deter him, no matter how hard I hit him with it. At the very least I would have been quite hurt, but I do believe it is safe to say that you saved my life. Thank you.”

“You do not owe me your thanks,” he was quick to say. “I am very glad I was here. I cannot even stand to think about what would have happened otherwise.” Though he tried to hide it, Anna caught the emotion in his voice. He took a breath before changing the subject. “And you? What on earth were you doing all the way out here by yourself?”

“Just walking.”

“Do you usually walk so far from home?” 

“No. I was a little caught up in my thoughts today,” she admitted shyly. “I didn’t realize how far I’d gone. I was just about to turn around when I saw the wolf.”

“What were you thinking about so intently?” Mr. Winchester asked. “It must have been terribly interesting to make you so unaware of your surroundings.”

Anna’s breath hitched a little. Not ten minutes ago she had come to the decision she needed to say goodbye to Mr. Winchester. Now here he was, and he wanted to know what she was thinking. If there was ever an opening, this was certainly it. But she found she couldn’t do it. Maybe it was because he had just saved her life and that was a truly poor way to repay him. That seemed a good enough explanation for her hesitation. But if she was honest with herself, Anna knew that the idea of explaining her feelings and asking him to leave her alone was one thing. The reality was a whole other beast, one she could not face. As much as she knew she should, she couldn’t bear the idea of losing his friendship.

“Nothing worth talking about, really,” she answered. The brief glance he threw her way told her all she needed to know. He didn’t buy it. He wasn’t about to push though. “Tell me about Kaz,” she said instead.

Mr. Winchester seemed pleased with her change in topic. “She’s the best horse you’ll find anywhere,” he said affectionately as he patted her on the neck. “She’s strong and smart and quick and she’ll do anything you ask of her.”

“She might be the best looking horse I’ve seen,” Anna offered. She didn’t say it for Mr. Winchester’s benefit, she meant it. There wasn’t a drop of white to be found on the gorgeous mare. Her mane and tail were long and full and soft looking. She was tall and broad and muscular. Even the most amateur horseman could see with one look what a wellbuilt horse she was. “How long have you had her?”

“Raised her myself,” he answered proudly. “She was born out of one of my father’s old mares when I was sixteen. I knew I had to have her. I begged my father for weeks and finally he told me if I put in the effort, if I took care of her and broke her when she was old enough, then she was mine. So I did.” He sounded happy in the way he only did when talking about the things he truly loved.

“Have you ever had a real bond with a horse?” He asked. “Not just a horse that you liked better than all the others, but a real bond? The kind of bond where, when you ride them, it’s like everything is right in the world. Where you know each other so well that it sometimes feels like you can actually read each other’s minds. Where you trust them completely.”

“No,” I answered truthfully, “but it sounds wonderful. She sounds wonderful.”

He looked at the horse with a fond smile. “She’s a one in a million kind of horse.”

Perfect for a one in a million kind of man, she thought.

~~~~~

Her mother was in a tizzy by the time they reached the house, worried by how long Anna had been gone. Seeing her return home with a gentleman – and particularly this gentleman – unchaperoned, only made matters worse. Anna saw the barely contained fury on her face. Until she saw the way Anna favored her ankle after Mr. Winchester helped her off of his horse. Anna hurried to explain what happened as Mr. Winchester helped her to the door. Then the calm, well-mannered lady Anna was used to disappeared as her mother swung between worrying excessively over the whole situation – and Anna’s ankle especially – and profusely thanking Mr. Winchester, all but demanding that he stay for lunch.

Knowing there is only so much one can do in the face of a grateful mother insistent on showing her gratitude, he agreed easily. When Anna protested that surely he wished to go on the hunt he had intended, or possibly to head home, he waved her off, assuring her he was happy to stay. She only hoped he didn’t regret that decision if her mother’s newfound craziness decided to stick around.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to acknowledge the time jump. Initially I planned on this chapter being about the tea at the Winchester's, but then I realized a) I had no idea what in the world to have them talk about and b) too many chapters in a row of just talking gets boring. So I skipped ahead a little bit to add something a little more exciting. Also, let's talk about Kaz. I got the idea for this from another story, Dust by @ravengirl94. Was this person the first to come up with the idea of a black horse named Kaz? No idea. But that's where I heard it, so credit where credit's due. And it's a great series, so if you haven't read it before, check it out!

Tags:

@123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

[frogmanfae]

Newsies as things that happened at band camp part 7

Jojo: Why do you have a tub of Vaseline?

Elmer: It's Buttons's I'm babysitting during the parade block

Jojo: ...what-

Elmer: Its name is Velociraptor

Crutchie: So remember that girl who told Jack he's her second choice?

Davey: Yeah?

Crutchie: Yeah he went after toxic girl and now he's sad

Davey: Damn it

Romeo: I was famous on wattpad for like 2 years and then they took all them down and I sent email after email to get them to put it back up to no avail! My books had like 100k reads!

Davey: *silently has 500k reads on his wattpad books and people are still reading them despite not updating anything in over a year because he transferred to ao3 and completely abandoned all of his wattpad book ideas*

Jack: *sticks his hand in Davey's drum while hes wearing it*

Davey: ...Thats violating-

Davey: *going through the band room like a tornado knocking shit down with his drums* First lesson of quadding, if you knock it down that's their problem

Albert: In sixth grade I wrote my narrative writing to be like a whole notebook thick and it was actually just a FNAF novel that turned out to be canonically accurate, for some fucking reason

Albert: *asks Spot to play something on his snare*

Spot: *plays it*

Albert: Okay that's like I thought

Spot: *keeps playing*

Albert: Okay you can stop

Spot: *keeps playing*

Albert: Please it's 8:30 am

Jojo: How is summer almost over

Specs: Shhh

Jojo: We don't even get 104 days of it. Where the fuck do Phineas and Ferb go?

Race: There's nothing fresh about those air fresheners on your drum they've been there since before freshman year

Spot: leave them alone! They're vintage!

Jack: Those saw the declaration of independence get signed

Race: He got them way over four score and seven years ago

Davey: That class roster is the nightmare blunt rotation if I've ever seen it

Jack: I'd smoke a joint with them. Would I be happy? Probably not. But I'd still do it

Race: This might be the ADHD or the potential autism but have you ever thought about how colors aren't real?

Albert: Please stop it is 8:45 am

Denton: If we had to do push ups every time we made a mistake we'd have a BUFF band... Love you guys

Sarah: At least you have a chair

Davey: I do not??

Sarah: You have a drum

Davey: Thats not a chair!

Sarah: Don't you sit on it?

Davey: ...Occasionally

Spot: We should just sit on our drums in protest

Davey: Yeah! Just like those... Um... The things...

Spot: ...Sit ins?

Davey: Yes! Those!! I'm on new medication I can't-

Jack: Got a secret

Jack: Can ya keep it

Jack: Takin this one to the grave

Jack: Better lock it

Jack: In your pocket

Crutchie: It's not even 9:45 in the goddamn morning shut the fuck up

Race and Elmer: *saying the lyrics of Posituvity from the Little Mermaid Broadway show like it's slam poetry*

Race: *at the football team* look they all got fat booties

Romeo: Girls if you don't have a date to homecoming, hit me up. Cuz I'm the bomb dot com

Buttons: *about a peanut m&m on the stairs* thats a hazard

Spot: I am going to stick my foot so far up all 3 of your asses-

Race: Ew you got the root beer popsicle?

Albert: What's wrong with root beer?

Buttons: It's root beer!

Race: It's inferior to frooty flavors!

Albert: Oh of course YOU would think that

Race: call me a fag why don't ya

Elmer: *licks popsicle* Ewww...

Buttons: Why'd you get root beer??

Elmer: *crying* I thought it was chocolate!

Jack: Oh so i was looking at pictures of my family and apparently my great grandfather, my dads grandfather on his dad's side, we WHITE. Like WHITE white. Like, blonde hair blue eyes, Hitler's wet dream-

Race: so what happened to you?

Jack: I'm thinkin he had an affair with your great grandma or somethin cuz he sure as hell ain't related to me

Albert: all the Reddit people went to tumblr

Jack: Whats tumblr?

Race: That one cite that banned porn and then everyone got mad and moved to twitter

Davey: And then everyone got mad at Twitter and moved back to tumblr

Spot: *angrily* I just got called a freshman

Race: Ha loser-

Spot: *punches him*

Albert, Race, Elmer, Spot, Sarah, Katherine, Jack, Davey, and Crutchie: *sitting in a circle around the stairs*

Buttons, trying to get up the stairs: what are you-

Albert and Race: *locking freshman in the practice rooms*

Elmer: *the freshman locked in the practice room*

Finch: *looks at Elmer through the window and just shakes his head and keeps walking*

Elmer: *presses his hand against the glass sadly*

Sarah: In the best possible way, your shirt is giving Monster High

Race: Coming from a queer woman, thats the best thing I could have heard, thank you

Denton: You're starting to sound like sick cats at measure 27 *Sick cat imitation*

Denton: Okay flutes and clarinets measure 34

Elmer and Specs: *whines of absolute suffering*

Denton: *clap clap clap clap* *pause* horns up! Sorry I was late, thats on me

Albert: He's finishing his donuts!

Denton: Hey! That is an orange peanut butter cracker!

Albert: Oh my b my b

Race: Do you have tape

Denton: ...Why?

Race: My trombone broke

Denton: how did your- *sighs* yeah. I have tape.

Finch: they're performing open valve surgery

Buttons: Oh my God is everything okay??

Finch: Trumpet valve, not heart valve.

Davey: *drops drumstick and stares at it defeatedly for 15 seconds before picking it up*

Katherine: That thing ran on miracles and duct tape

Jack: *starts playing Mary Had a Little Lamb on the quads (the beginning to a certain drum cadence)*

Spot: NO!

Davey: SHUT UP

Davey: SHUT THE FUCK UP

Albert: STOP

Race: The gray hairs come in and it's just game over

Spot: No random tapping, drums. NO RANDOM TAPPING, DRUMS!

Denton: ...do you want to play Jig II? It's your call, youre the one who has to play the solo in it

Davey: I don't really care

Denton: Alright let's play it then

Davey: UGHHHHH *sobbing*

Race: Popsicles are probably the #1 food to eat seductively

Romeo: Thats funny because I was reading a fic one time and the one guy was about to suck the other guys dick but he had never sucked dick before so he just looked at it and went "... Like a popsicle?"

Race: Why the fuck are you reading that kind of- aren't you asexual??

[youthhasboyfriends]

qiu zhixie is that boyfriend who is every parents' perfect son-in-law in public but the most passionate boyfriend in private

[heytherejulietx]

K. ~ Fred Weasley

Masterlists

Requests are CLOSED

Notes - Hi! So this is my own entry to my writing challenge. I found this song literally yesterday and after listening to the lyrics I had to use it. Originally I was going to use the song Dear True Love by Sleeping At Last but when I heard this I had to write it. So yeah, I hope you enjoy it as mich as I do! Please leave some nice feedback, I’m a slut for validation.

Warnings - A few hot moments, though no actual smut.

Word count - 4.2k.

Harry Potter tag list - @idont-knowrn @weasleysflowr @angelinathebook @msmimimerton @durmstrange @kashishwrites

Twins tag list - @whizbangs-78

If you’d like to be added to any tag list please just tell me!

I remember when I first noticed that you liked me back

We were sitting down in a restaurant waiting for the check

~

Fred couldn't really distinguish the line that was drawn between when he was friends with Y/N and when he first started liking her. They had been best friends since their first year at Hogwarts; himself, George, and her. They were inseparable. The three did everything together, and the only time they really were apart was when they had to head off into their separate dormitories for the night. As they got older, Fred started to view her as more of a friend. Though if someone was to ask him when he started feeling that way, he couldn't give an answer. Fondness turned into adoration, friendliness turned into flirtatiousness, and friendship turned into a crush. Though Fred never did anything about it throughout his schooling years. He thought she didn't like him in that way, and whilst being bound in the agonising friend-zone hurt him, he respected her decision and just wanted to get happy.

Though, there was still never a day where he looked at her and didn't think she was beautiful. There was never a day when he didn't want to gather her in his arms and never let go of her. There was never a day where he didn't want to pull her closer by the belt-loops on her trousers and kiss her until they were breathless. Sometimes George teased him about how whipped he was, though instead of getting offended he just agreed. He most definitely was whipped, but he loved it.

When the twins had left Hogwarts to start up their shop, Y/N had remained at the school to finish off her year and complete her exams. And whilst the twins - but mostly Fred - missed her horribly for those months - on the day after the summer she'd finished school before, she turned up at the door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, asking for a job. And since that point on, it was like they were at school again. They were inseparable. And Fred was more in love with her than ever before.

Though he had never felt more in love with her than he did one early Sunday morning. The shop was closed for some maintenance that was being done, so whilst George was snoozing in his apartment, Fred and Y/N had gone out for breakfast at a muggle café in London. They had already eaten all of their food and were waiting for the check so that they could leave. In that moment Y/N was laughing at something that Fred had said, and he just looked over at her with such adoration and love, only one thought going through his mind.

"I bloody love this woman."

~

We had made love earlier that day with no strings attached

But I could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then

~

Fred could remember the night before that morning so clearly. He couldn't get it out of his head, the way she looked in his bed, clothes discarded over the bedroom floor and her hair splayed out over his pillow, whispering his name breathily as she pulled him impossibly closer. He would die a happy man if that was his last thought. She was just so beautiful, simply the thought of it made butterflies swirl in his stomach and a fond smile to sweep across his lips.

The night before hadn't been planned. At first she had just been coming over Fred's place for dinner as George was busy on his own date with Angelina, though the atmosphere between them was so different that night. Y/N kept shifting in her seat the whole dinner, and whenever they made eye contact, it was intense. Intense in a way that it had never been before. He couldn't remember what he had said to her, but after the dinner was over she flung herself at him mid-conversation and kissed him with a passion that he didn't realise she had.

"Please." She had whined through the kiss, both of them stumbling through the hallway towards Fred's bedroom. "Just tonight, Freddie. No strings attached."

And whilst the promise of no strings attached stung a little, the attraction and lust that had filled him in that moment was undeniable.

"Freddie?" 

Fred looked back up and across the table at Y/N, pulling himself out of the love-driven trance that he had found himself in. When he met her gaze he pulled a half-smile onto his lips when looking at the beautiful woman in front of him, and seeing the way she was looking at him.

Oh.

She was looking at him the same way he looked at her multiple times a day. With such a fondness that his heart started racing in his chest and his palms became sweaty. 

She liked him back.

~

Kristen, come right back

I've been waiting for you to slip back in bed

When you light the candle

~

Fred groaned as he rolled over in the bed and stretched his arm out for his lover, though felt nothing but pillows and the quilt, and not the beautiful girl who belonged there. He pat around the space another few times, just to make sure her frame really wasn't there, before pouting as he flipped over to lay on his back.

"Darling!" He groaned, and didn't miss the distinct giggle across the room from his lover. "Come back, I miss you too much. I can hear my heart breaking more and more with every moment that you're away."

"Stop being so dramatic, I'm just lighting a candle." She scoffed fondly, followed by the click of a lighter being lit.

"You left me to light a bloody candle?" Fred sat up and had to squint his eyes to see her in the dimly lit room. When he spotted her, stood on the other side of the room by their dresser with a now-lit candle, he couldn't help but smile despite the false annoyance he was trying to portray. She was stood there in just her underwear, her hair messy and a bit knotted, but to him she looked perfect. She caught his gaze across the room and sent him a wink, before shrugging her shoulders at his previously spoken statement.

"Hey, they smell nice. This is the one that reminds me of your mum's house." She explained with a soft smile as she put the lighter away in the top drawer of their dresser.

"Why? Because it's in an orange jar?" Fred joked with a small entertained smirk when he watched her roll her eyes.

"No." She giggled. "It smells like cinnamon, like her cooking whenever we go to visit them." 

Fred watched as she approached the bed with the candle in her hand, and waited until she had put it down on their bedside table before he smirked and moved his arms around her waist, tugging her into the bed.

"Fred!" She squealed, laughing once he had rolled them so he was leaning over her, his legs bracketing hers as his hands moved down to her waist to start tickling her. She only laughed harder, the noise making him smile fondly as he kept running his fingers across her ribs, pushing away her hands that made a futile attempt at getting him to stop. He kept at it until he could see that she was running out of breath, despite still laughing loudly. In one fluid movement he caught each of her wrists in one of his hands and pinned them above her head against the pillow, his other hand resting on her hip, his thumb brushing along the waistband of her underwear.

"I hate you." She groaned, a slight giggle in her words at the ghosting of his tickles. 

"No you dont." Fred smirked, looking down at her with a shit-eating grin. "You love me."

"Yeah, I guess I do." She sighed dramatically, just giggling when Fred had rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

"You guess?" Fred raised an eyebrow at her before lowering his head to her neck, leaving light kisses along the already marked skin. He felt her hands wiggle in his grip, though he kept her wrists pressed into the pillows.

"Mhm." She hummed, another quiet giggle leaving her lips. 

Fred just smirked against her neck before tilting his head a little, leaving open-mouthed kisses at the base of her throat instead. He felt an especially smug feeling wash over him when he heard her breath catch in her throat once he'd lightly sucked on the exposed skin there, her hands wriggling again.

"Still guess so?" He asked smugly against her neck, being answered with a quiet whine instead of a sarcastic remark.

"Freddie." She whined, pulling against his hand. "Stop being such a tease."

Fred only chuckled, pulling back from her neck to lift his head and meet her lips with his instead, breathing in her exhale once she had sighed into his mouth. "Sorry, love." He muttered, releasing her wrists to rest his hands on her hips, feeling her's immediately find a place in his fiery locks. "Can't help myself."

~

And on the Lower East Side you're dancing with me now

And I'm taking pictures of you with flowers on the wall

~

One of her favourite things to do was dance. She danced all the time; when she was working, when she was cooking, when she was getting changed. She was always in such a good mood, it was astonishing to him that one person could hold so much happiness in them. Which was why it was so obvious to Fred when she was in a bad mood. She became very quiet, and almost drained.

Fred noticed this when he came home from work on one of the days she had off, and noticed her sat on the sofa with their cat Percy (Fred thought that naming their cat after his older brother was an absolutely hilarious idea, especially since Percy hated cats) still in her pyjamas, which was odd because even if she wasn't going anywhere she would still get dressed for the day.

She greeted him when he had come home, looking over at him as he took his shoes off with a small smile, and Fred could definitely tell that something was wrong when the smile didn't quite meet her eyes as it usually did.

"Hey, love." Fred said softly as he walked into the room, moving to crouch in front of her and gently took her hands. "Are you alright?"

Y/N sighed, shrugging as she looked down at their hands. "I had an argument with my mum this morning when she called. And we just never really argue a lot, so it kind of upset me a bit."

Fred frowned and let go of her hands to wrap his arms around her waist, standing with her so they could hug properly. "I'm sorry, darling." He said softly, leaving a kiss against her hairline as he held her tighter when feeling her grip on him tighten. 

They kept stood like that for a while in silence, with Fred leaving kisses against whatever part of her he could reach as he gently rubbed her back, trying to offer whatever sort of comfort he could give her that would make her feel even just a little bit better. He noticed that as the minutes passed her grip on him subtly got looser and looser, until she was simply holding him normally.

After a few minutes Fred pulled away from the hug with a soft smile, and leaned down to her height so he could press a soft kiss against her lips, and couldn't help but feel a bit better when he felt her smile against his lips. When he'd pulled away she smiled at him softly and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek, before returning to her spot on the sofa beside Percy, who was now asleep.

Though she still didn't look too happy, so after a moment of thought Fred smiled and moved across the room to their muggle CD player - an invention that she had introduced to him a few months back, and since then had loved it so much to be collecting muggle CDs of music that he liked. He found one of their favourite CDs to listen to together and put the disk in before he turned back towards Y/N as the music started floating across the room.

"Could you do me the honour of dancing with me, my love?" Fred bowed before her with one hand stretched out towards her, his words spoken in an over-the-top posh accent.

"Of course, my darling." She giggled, taking his hand and letting him pull her out of her seat to the middle of the room.

Fred's hands fell to rest on her waist as her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, the two of them swaying to the music together as they kept each other held close. Her head leaned to rest against his chest and she sighed softly, before Fred felt her relax against him. They danced for a while, long enough and peacefully enough for the rest of the world to blur away, and to just be left with the two of them there, the music a beautiful ambience in the background as the two swayed together lovingly.

"I love you, Freddie." She whispered softly, tilting her head to look at him with an expression that made him melt.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He leaned down to capture her soft lips with his own, a warm feeling bubbling in his stomach at the simplest touch from her.

Once he had pulled away, he removed one of his hands from her waist and reached to take one of her's instead, his smile growing as he gently spun her twice. Y/N giggled as she spun, falling back into Fred's chest with a light laugh as her hand gently squeezed his. Their dancing soon became almost silly, with her trying to spin Fred a few times - which was only successful when Fred helped her out by ducking since he was a considerable amount taller than her - and Fred dipping Y/N whenever a song ended. They ended up dancing for so long that before they knew it the album had ended. At the end of the song Fred dipped Y/N which caused her to giggle and smile at him - an expression that always made him fall in love with her all over again. Instead of letting her back up he leaned down with her to kiss her instead, smiling against her lips when she had wrapped both arms around his shoulders to pull herself closer and deepen the kiss.

By the evening, when the light outside was a beautiful orange glow that cast an amazing light through their windows, they were both in the bedroom, wrapped up in each other's embrace underneath the sheets.

"Freddie." Y/N whispered, only getting a hum from the man who had his face pressed against the soft skin of her neck, his arms wrapped around her gently. "I need to get up, I'm staying at my sister's to help with the baby."

Fred groaned, holding onto her tighter which made her giggle as she lightly slapped his shoulder. "Come on, please? I can't be late, you know what she's like."

Fred sighed heavily though despite his reluctance to let her go he unwound his arms from her waist and rolled over, pouting when she had turned to look at him, whereas she just giggled quietly at his expression before getting out of bed. 

"I'll be back tomorrow afternoon, love. We've got that double date with George and Angelina, remember?"

Though Fred wasn't really listening to her, instead his attention was her moving around the room to get her underwear, his eyes never leaving her body as she put them on. He sat up when she'd walked past the wall parallel to the window which had flowers painted over it, holding a hand up, despite her still only in her underwear. "Hold still for a moment."

"Fred, I really need to-"

"No no no, it'll only take a moment." Fred searched the draw of his bedside table for a moment before he smiled as he pulled out what he had been looking for - a polaroid camera. It had been a gift from one of their muggle friends the previous christmas, and Fred had been obsessed with it since they had gotten it. He took every opportunity to take a photo of her, and that was a lot of the time.

"Fred, I look awful." She groaned.

"Awfully gorgeous, my love, now stand still for a moment, will you?" He asked, smiling when she had sighed though leaned against the wall and kept still. He raised the camera to his eye, a fond smile crossing his lips at the beauty he was met with - the orange glow of the evening light casting over her exposed skin, making her look like an angel. "Beautiful." He complimented once he had snapped the picture, watching as it was printed at the top of the camera.

"Thank you." She smiled almost bashfully. "Can I get dressed now, love?"

~

Think I like you best when you're dressed in black from head to toe

Think I like you best when you're just with me

And no one else

~

Fred always thought she was beautiful. The word ugly or unattractive just wasn't in his vocabulary whenever she was around. Every outfit looked good on her, every colour looked good on her - though his favourite colour on her had to be black. To Fred, it was the colour that made her features stand out the most. It made her eyes seem brighter than ever before. It made her hair shine and almost glow whenever it was under any sort of light. It made every beauty mark and freckle stand out. It made him fall in love with her even more, if that were possible. 

Though Y/N didn't always see that, and for the life of him Fred couldn't understand why. She was so beautiful and he thought that it was so obvious, but to her it wasn't.

"Freddie?" She had asked him once from their bedroom, whilst he had been in the kitchen cooking dinner. "Can you come in here for a moment? I need to ask you something."

Fred frowned, noticing almost a hint of nervousness in her voice, though he was almost stunned when he walked into the bedroom and saw what she was wearing. She was dressed in a vintage style button-down  black dress, that had a neckline that dipped down low enough so that he could see her collarbones and the top part of her chest, and was short enough so that he could see above her knees to her mid-thigh.

"Do you think this looks alright?" She asked, looking at herself in their bedroom mirror, turning to different angles as she frowned at herself critically. "I got it for that party we're going on but I'm not too sure about it."

Fred shook his head, moving over to stand behind her and moved his arms around her waist, tucking her head underneath his chin as he met her gaze in the mirror. "You look beautiful, darling." He said softly, gently squeezing her in his hold. "You could never look anything less than gorgeous, okay?" 

He watched as she smiled bashfully and nodded her head, looking at herself in the mirror again as she leaned against him. "Thank you, Freddie."

"It's no problem, love." He smiled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her neck as she closed her eyes and sighed in content.

~

Kristen, come right back

I've been waiting for you to slip back in bed

When you light the candle

~

Fred groaned as he collapsed back onto the bed, watching as Y/N moved across the room to light a few of the many candles she had collected over time. "You're not leaving me for those bloody candles again, are you?" He huffed, watching her, in nothing but her underwear, light the candles like he'd seen her do many times.

"Hey!" She whined, pouting as she turned to look down at him. "Candles are romantic. And they smell nice."

"I'm romantic and I smell nice, what's your point?" He asked with a small smirk, only getting a scoff in return. "Darling come back, I want you now." He groaned overdramatically, flopping back over the bed with a loud sigh.

"You have a left hand, don't you?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "Use it if you're that impatient." She giggled when turning and seeing his bewildered expression, as he had definitely not expected that sentence to leave her mouth so casually.

"Okay, that's it." Fred moved to get up and crossed the bedroom to be standing behind her, before he wound his arms around her waist and picked her up.

"Fred!" She giggled the complaint as he carried her across the bedroom towards the bed. "No wait, I didn't finish lighting the candles!"

He simply ignored her and gently tossed her onto the bed, which caused her to laugh a lot harder as he got onto the bed and situated himself over her.

"Oh yeah, that's terribly romantic, Freddie." She teased with another giggle as she pushed some of his hair out of his eyes.

"Oh, just shut up and kiss me, will you?"

~

And I'm kissing you lying in my room

Holding you until you fall asleep

~

Fred adored every single aspect of being with Y/N. He could spend the whole day in one of her hugs, or dancing with her, or even just talking with her. And maybe he was a little biased considering he loved her to the moon and back anyways, but everything about her just pulled him in deeper and deeper, like a siren leading a sailor into the deep dark waters. Though one of his favourite moments with her was probably when they shared lazy kisses, whether that was first thing in the morning or the last thing at night. If it was the latter, then that usually entailed after-sex kisses, which Fred adored as much as the sex itself. There was nothing better than soft and light kisses after deep and passionate ones had been shared.

Y/N sighed into Fred's mouth as he rolled them over so she was underneath him, peppering her flushed and sweaty skin with light kisses once he had pulled away, nothing in contrast to what he had previously been leaving against her skin.

"I love you." Fred whispered against her pink cheek, before tilting his head to capture her lips in a soft and gentle kiss, despite it's lightness, still managed to take Fred's breath away.

"I love you too." She smiled softly, and when Fred pulled away enough to look at her he could see her eyes were half closed, and he could see how tired she was.

In one careful movement Fred rolled off of her and curled his arm around her waist, pulling her smaller frame into his larger one so her back would be flush against his chest. He felt her body relax against his as he pulled the covers over the both of them, and tightened his arm around her waist subtly.

"Night Freddie." She whispered, her eyes closing when Fred had left a gentle kiss against her exposed shoulder.

"Goodnight, darling." He whispered, leaving another kiss against her skin before relaxing against the pillows, holding her until she fell asleep.

~

And it's just as good as I knew it would be

Stay with me I don't want you to leave

~

Fred often found himself staying up longer than Y/N, though he loved those moments he got to admire her beauty in it's rawest form. He thought she was absolutely stunning, inside and out, and really couldn't have asked for a better person to spend the rest of his life with. Of course, back in Hogwarts when he was crushing on her like crazy, he often imagined what it would be like to be with her intimately. He imagined late night walks by the lake, candlelit dinners, late nights up talking. He had thought at that moment in time that nothing could possibly be better than that. Though he was so so wrong, because the real thing was so much better. She was so much better than whatever version of her he had imagined. Sure, she was probably the best friend he could have asked for in Hogwarts, though her friendship was absolutely nothing compared to her love.

That was one of many reasons why in the bottom of Fred's bedside table was a small red velvet box in, with a small silver diamond ring in. He wanted her to be his forever and he wanted to be her's. He never wanted her to leave.

~

Kristen, come right back

I've been waiting for you to slip back in bed

When you light the candle

[sassyhobbits]

for one night standards would you write a scene where aelin cant be found in the castle maybe bc shes doing sth ridiculous with her daughter like a mother daughter photoshoot to surprise rowan with later but when rowan can't find her he gets all panicked and out of his mind bc he still has unresolved trauma from when she was kidnapped and its all angsty until he has both back in his arms but also gives rowan a chance to talk and work through his experience with aelin gone? (because lets face it he probably ignores his feelings about that as much as possible in order to not burden aelin further and because it was just too painful)

loved this idea!!! i also added the prompt “Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again“ Thank you to everyone who supported ONS!! i had such a fun time writing it and im always happy to come back to it. enjoy!!

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was generally a patient man.

He knew how to wait his turn, to take his time. He was always one to raise a brow at those who seemed to be in a harried rush to everything. It seemed stressful, to say the least. He was perfectly content to sit back when needed.

Except for now.

He had made a trip back home to Doranelle to surprise Isolde for her graduation from her masters program. Aelin had wanted to come as well, but with the baby and the responsibilities she had back in Orynth, it just hadn’t worked out. Still, she sent her well-wishes to Isolde through a video chat, letting little Eliora babble into the camera and say hello as well.

Their daughter was just over six months now, already growing far too fast for Rowan’s liking. He treasured every moment he got to spend with his two favorite girls.

And although he was always happy to see his family back in Doranelle, it had been the longest he had been away since Eliora had been born. It made him highly impatient to return home.

His jet touched down in Terrasen in the early afternoon. It was summer, though the day was mild. The sky was a vivid blue, fat white clouds floating lethargically on the breeze. Absolutely beautiful.

Due to the time difference, he hadn’t been able to call Aelin before he had got on the plane. He tried to reach her as he slid into the dark sedan that would drive him from the airport to the palace, but all he got was her voicemail.

Maybe she was in the shower, or changing Eliora’s diaper. Maybe their daughter had a finicky night of sleeping and now the pair were trying to catch up on their slumber. It was fine. Or so Rowan told himself. He still hadn’t been able to stop the small clench of nerves at the pit of his stomach.

He scolded those foolish feelings. Of course his wife and daughter were safe. They were just waiting for him to return.

The drive was quick and easy and he was back at the palace before he knew it. His feet carried him towards the room he shared with Aelin, a small smile curling on his lips as he thought about having his wife and daughter in his arms once more. He missed the feeling of Aelin curled against him as they slept.

“Aelin?” he called, pushing into their room and nudging the door shut behind him. “I’m home.”

He was greeted by nothing but silence. No sound of running water in the bathroom to suggest a shower, so soft snores or shifting sheets meaning a nap. He strode into the bedroom, finding that the bed was already neatly made, not a thread out of place.

He dropped his bags by the dresser, noting that Aelin’s phone had been left there, face up. He picked it up, seeing that she still had the notification of a missed call from him and a few miscellaneous emails that hadn’t been checked.

“Aelin?” he said again, moving towards the nursery. He had gotten used to the sight of Aelin sitting in the rocking chair with Eliora, either when the babe was hungry or she just wanted to hold her daughter. Rowan had countless pictures on his phone of the two of them in that position. The sunlight streamed from the window and hit them just right in the mornings, making them look like a painting.

But the nursery was empty and the window was shut.

Those nerves reared their ugly heads once more. He had no reason to assume the worst, the palace was one of the safest places in the kingdom.

But… Aelin had once been snatched away from him on palace grounds. During their own wedding.

Rowan shook himself. No. That was the past. This was now.

Since his wife didn’t have her phone, he knew it would be fruitless to try and contact her that way. But, Rowan knew Aelin better than he knew himself.

He began a sweep of the palace, checking out her favorite haunts. The library was a bust, so was the gym. He had checked the kitchens to see if she had swooped in for a snack or something sweet, but she wasn’t there either. Rowan luckily ran into Aedion, asking the prince if he knew where Aelin was. But her cousin hadn’t seen her at all that morning.

With each failed attempt at finding them, Rowan’s fears steadily crept up. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had wrapped themselves around his throat and pulled him deep into their depths.

He took a long breath to center himself before striding out into the gardens. His heart started beating faster, not seeing any sign of her at first. Rowan’s fingers curled into tight fists as he stepped over fresh, green grass. Gods, where were they? If something had happened to them…

But before Rowan’s fears could conquer him, he heard a soft voice on the summer breeze. A familiar voice at that. Relief washed through him, heavenly and soothing, as he followed that melodic sound.

It was Aelin. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was reading one of Eliora’s favorite books to her. It was a silly tale, and it was made even more vivid when Aelin told it. She was an excellent story-teller. They didn’t know how much Eliora really understood, whether she just liked the brightly colored pictures or the faces her mother would make when she told it. Regardless, it always made the little princess smile.

Rowan rounded a hedge, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight before him.

Aelin had spread out a large quilt under the shade of a willow. Some of Eliora’s toys were scattered about, but currently, the toddler sat in her mother’s lap, wide-eyes glued on the book before her.

Rowan couldn’t help but think Aelin looked stunning today. Her golden hair was left loose, swaying on the breeze, the summer sun bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks. She wore a silky, pale blue wrap-dress, bare feet tucked beneath her as she read. Eliora looked mighty charming too in a bright pink dress with a matching bow.

Rowan strolled towards them, Aelin’s eyes jumping towards him as she noticed his presence. A huge smile broke out on her stunning face.

“You’re home!” she greeted, putting the book she had been reading aloud down. Eliora, no longer entertained by her mother’s storytelling, crawled over the quilt to grab one of her brightly colored toys. “I thought you were going to call me when you landed?”

“I did, Fireheart,” Rowan said. He lowered herself behind Aelin on the blanket, his wife situated between his legs, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and tugging her back into his chest securely. “You left your phone in our room.”

Rowan placed a lingering kiss on Aelin's shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply. She was safe, in his arms, Eliora happy as can be, sticking her toys in her mouth. Everything was fine.

Aelin turned in his arms slightly, brows knitted slightly. Rowan knew she could see right through him.

“What is it, Ro?”

“It’s nothing, love.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, Don’t you lie to me, Buzzard.

Rowan heaved a sigh, reaching out and brushing some of Aelin’s silky hair behind her ear. “It’s just… you didn’t answer me when I called, and I couldn’t find you and Eliora when I got back. I just couldn’t help but think…” His hand drifted until it rested on Aelin’s abdomen, right over the scar she bore from fighting her way to freedom. He saw understanding on his wife’s face.

“We’re here, Rowan. We’re safe.” She placed a gentle hand on Rowan’s cheek, bringing his gaze towards her.

“I know,” Rowan whispered, jaw clenched. “But sometimes, I just worry that when I open my eyes, this will all turn out to be a dream. And I’ll lose you all over again.”

Aelin took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “This is real, Rowan. We both fought for this life, for each other. And nothing, nothing, is going to take it away. Ever.”

Rowan saw the determination blazing in Aelin’s eyes. She was right, of course. This was their life now, they had built their happiness bit by bit, even when so much seemed to want to go wrong. But Aelin and Eliora… they were everything to him. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to banish his fears entirely, but he would treasure every moment he spent with them.

Rowan leaned in, kissing Aelin softly before murmuring against her lips, “I missed you.”

She smiled, kissing him again. “I missed you too, Ro.”

They indulged in a few more slow, sweet kisses before loud babbling sounded, tiny hands twisting into Rowan’s trouser. He looked down, finding Eliora’s wide eyes looking up at him, flashing a gummy smile.

Aelin laughed. “It looks like someone else missed you, too.”

Rowan grinned, reaching out and picking up his daughter. He held her up high, making her release the sweetest little laughs, little legs kicking in delight. He kissed Eliora all over her little face before tucking her in one arm, throwing the other around Aelin. Immense love and devotion flowed through him, holding his two girls close.

No wonder why he had been so impatient to get home.

[geniedocroe]

FOREVER YOURS

(skip muck X reader)

fluff?? idk anymore

a/n: anyways this got requested on wattpad. y’all are free to request anytime you lost xx

wc: 2136

you did not expect to have your best friend crying into your shoulder every afternoon. honestly, you didn’t expect to even be near your best friend on a day like that. you always had plans to stay home and wallow in self-pity all day. that was until skip called you.

before the war, you and skip had been closer than ever. the two of you met as pubescent kids and got into all sorts of trouble. the other people in your neighborhood had definitely deemed you both ‘partners in crime’. there were no complaints from either of you. because in all honesty, skip was in love with you and the feeling had been reciprocated. it wasn’t some sort of unrequited love that was written about in romance novels. it was just two best friends torn apart by the reality of war.

skip was quick to enlist in the airborne (something you weren’t exactly fond of) and you had stayed back at home working in some factory. for years you waited for him to come home. you dreaded getting a call from one of his family members saying they a k.i.a. letter, but thankfully they never did. to you, it felt like a lifetime since you’d seen skip. to him, it must’ve felt like seven lifetimes.

when he came home, he was exactly what you had expected. broken and empty. skip made it very clear that he didn’t want you to force yourself to be the person to fix him. you knew you couldn’t fix him because he was beyond repair, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t fill all the cracks with something new. after all, this wouldn’t happen overnight. it’d take years. maybe even decades. hell, you didn’t think he could ever snap back from this. however, that didn’t mean he couldn’t laugh or the two of you couldn’t be happy. it would come and go, like waves upon a beach. sometimes he was happier for longer, sometimes he was completely reserved and quiet. you were fine with that. it was what you signed up for.

he sobbed into your shoulder for hours on end. he must’ve been in so much physical pain. you could never cry for that long.

“it’s okay to cry. i actually think it makes a person stronger.” you’d tell him.

you loved skip. in your eyes, that was very clear. actually, it was very simple to everyone around you. if you had the chance, you would’ve laid down your life for him. the purest thing in the world was being able to look at someone and just know they were yours. through thick and thin, you had him and he had you. skip knew it, you knew it, all of your friends and family knew it.

most times he’d scream and cry, but never tell you why. you were fine with that. he fought his own battles in his mind. all you could do was sit by and watch. you couldn’t drop into his nightmares and fight away the demons with a sword. you weren’t there throughout the war. you didn’t understand what went through his mind. all you could do was listen. at first, that was all you could do. skip didn’t want to go anywhere. there wasn’t anyone he was dying to see other than you.

years had begun to pass. there was a closing rift between the two of you. though, you did stand side by side through it all. skip opened up to you. he’d try his hardest to explain why he couldn’t sleep through the night. he told you about the time he thought it was all over, and at that moment all he could think of was you. he introduced you to his airborne buddies. they’d say they heard only the best about you. skip would always pull you away before they said too much.

“i’m always gonna be here for you. just say the word and i’m there.” you’d reassure him when the goings got a little too rough.

skip loved you. you had gotten him through the war. skip could so clearly remember sitting in a foxhole and staring directly at a shell that hadn’t gone off. he could hear alex penkala’s distant voice screaming for george luz to jump in their foxhole. then he could see carwood lipton pulling george away. at that moment, he could’ve died. blown to absolute hell. in the shiny metal of the bomb, he could see the color of your eyes. the sizzling of heat hitting the snow reminded him only of your voice singing lullabies to your younger siblings. alex was asking if he was alright and skip had no idea. because you were back home in tonawanda and he was in a freezing cold forest in belgium, yet all he could see was your face.

as soon as the shelling had ceased, skip had pulled out a piece of paper. the letter was addressed to you. he poured his heart onto that paper. every little thing running through his mind was written down. yet skip never sent it. he tucked it away beside his rosary and held it close to his heart. skip never did read that letter after he folded it up. he had gone home after endless years of pain and shoved it into his sock drawer. skip promised that piece of paper was never allowed to be read unless he had grown up and asked you to marry him.

skip was not the type of person to break a promise. the two of you worked your asses off. you could make all the money in the world, but it never compared to what was right in front of you (which was skip). skip worked day and night. he did anything he could. without any trace of a romantic relationship between you two, skip bought an engagement ring. he saved up all his money for one piece of small jewelry. that same night he called you over to his house and asked you to marry him. you never knew what to say when skip had bright ideas like this one, but at that time the only answer was yes. it would only ever be yes.

the night of your wedding, skip handed you a letter that had been as worn out by the war as he was. there were tears in his eyes as you took it into your hand. the date read sometime in january of 1945. you could barely remember that time of year. however, skip looked as though he thought about it every day since then.

january 9, 1945

y/n,

not even ten minutes ago, i nearly faced death. it looked me in my own eyes and told me i was nothing. as it happened, i decided deep in my soul that i didn’t want to die. if it hadn’t been a faulty shell (a shell is a bomb, in case you didn’t know), i don’t think i would’ve felt it. i would’ve known penk was at my side and i would see luz right across from us, crawling through the snow. i think it would’ve been painless. one large blast and suddenly nothing. if i am an unfortunate victim of this war, that is how i’d like to go. no pain, just nothingness.

in case i never see you again, i just want you to know how much you mean to me. i love you more than words could ever say. by the time you’re reading this letter (if you ever are), i’m either dead or we’re married. one can only hope for the latter. hopefully, you know how much i adore you. there is no greater thing in this world than the thought of you as i feel my body getting riddled with hypothermia.

i can’t feel my toes. i haven’t been able to feel them in so, so long. tip: if you’re even in belgium, bring EXTRA socks (also wear the right clothing). it’s terribly cold here. way colder than it has ever been at home. my fingers feel like they could break with the slightest impact. i know that in a time like this, you’re probably cuddled up by the fire. we can’t have a fire here. it would alert the enemy.

the shelling rarely stops. they really are destroying us out here. the enemy knows no sort of mercy and neither do we. some of us are barely making it through this. we’ve lost some great men. i’ve lost some of my best friends. it’s never easy to see one of the toccoa men pass. we are good soldiers. winters likes to tell us that whenever he gets the opportunity.

penk has nightmares. it’s a horrible thing to witness. i have to wake him up just in case he gets a little too loud. i know i have them too, but penk never mentions it. occasionally don will come and visit us. his nightmares are the worst. i haven’t seen him since the shelling has stopped, but if he’s even alive i’ll have to hug him as tight as possible. lip is telling us to stay in our foxholes in case it starts up again. i don’t think i could move if i tried.

i keep thinking about you. i don’t remember the last time i heard from you. it must’ve been before holland. i miss you so much. i wish we were back home. i’d give anything in the world to hear your voice one last time. absolutely anything, you don’t understand. there’s nothing i wouldn’t do.

it’s horrifying out here. skinny had a leg injury and smokey was paralyzed. toye lost a leg and guarnere was badly wounded, so he will probably have to lose one too. hoob accidentally shot himself and passed away so fast that you wouldn’t have even known what happened if you weren’t there. a replacement in babe’s foxhole was shot in the neck. i hear that was a lot of blood. i can't even begin to think about all the other people we’ve lost. it’s been a long and brutal couple of weeks.

christmas was odd. i wish i had been with you, setting up your tree in your parent's living room. i always loved how it was right in the front picture window. it looked like a dream. the snow out here is far from that. i hope you put all the cute little ornaments on. i know you admire those far more than the fancy ones. your mother always hated when we made her tree look “messy”. i hope your parents are well. i wonder what they had gotten you for christmas. were there any presents addressed to me? do they sit under the christmas tree you have yet to take down? will you move them to the back of the closet in your bedroom to sit unopened for years if i never make it home? or will you give them to me the moment you see me again even if it is the middle of summer?

one day, when we’re married and have enough money to buy our own place, i want the big window. i want a big yard and big window and a great big christmas tree. every year we can buy our kids ornaments that they can eventually put on their own tree. maybe we can get a dog or a cat. i’d love to watch a cat bat its paw at the ornaments. imagine a small little dog curled up in front of the fireplace.

i think that when i get home i’m gonna have the fireplace on all year. i don’t think i’ll ever set foot in the snow again. you can take our kids sledding or out to build the snowmen. i’ll stay inside with the dog. we can make imaginary snowmen. i’ll watch you and the kids from the window.

what would we name our kids? how many would we have? where would we live? i have so many questions that i cant wait to answer. maybe by the time you’re reading this, we would’ve already made all the big decisions. tell me, what did your wedding dress look like? am i the man you married? did we elope? or did we have the super huge wedding? please tell me don, penk, and george were there. they are some of my best friends after all. i might have to invite everyone in the company. lord knows they deserve it. i owe my life to these guys. i owe my life to you. after all, i wouldn’t be writing this letter without the thought of you on my mind.

i love you, y/n. i can’t wait to hug you.

forever yours,

skip

[shadowhuntertrash]

Hello, I read your other fanfics and absolutely adored them! I was wondering if you could write a Thomastair angst based on the song Consequences by Camila Cabello, I'd prefer if it was in Alastair's pov but it's fine if it's in Thomas'. PS, I loved High Notes, can't wait for the next chapter <33

Sorry this took so long and I kinda mixed the POV hope you don't mind <33

And thank you SO MUCH!!!

Dirty tissues, trust issues

Glasses on the sink, they didn't fix you

Lonely pillows in a strangers bed

Little voices in my head

   Thomas stared at the glass in front of him, he had stolen whiskey and rum from Matthew in hopes of drowning out the memories. He didn’t want to remember, he wanted everything to go away. He wanted to forget what the pain felt like, what Alastair felt like.

   He couldn’t stand being in his bed anymore, not after all the nights spent there with Alastair, not with all the memories. He couldn’t escape from the memories, they were everywhere, he felt so utterly trapped.

  Thomas threw the rest of the drink back and reveled in the burning sensation it sent down his throat. He wanted to drown out all the voices, all the promised whispers in the dead of night. He wanted to drown out the music Alastair played for him, he wanted to drown.

   Tears were streaming down his face but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. With a shuddering breath, Thomas threw the glass at the wall with all his strength. His back slid down the opposite wall as he let out the sobs he had been holding in, the glass shards everywhere.

   He knew that feeling, shattering, his heart was all too familiar with it.

Secret keeping, stop the bleeding

Lost a little weight because I wasn't eating

All the songs that I can't listen to, to tell the truth

   Alastair had always hated secrets, he wondered if that’s why he hated himself. His whole life, his whole existence felt like one big secret.

   He couldn’t tell anyone about his father, he couldn’t tell anyone about Charles, he could’ve told people about Thomas but after so many lies and secrets what was one more? He should have seen it, it shouldn’t have surprised him. He shouldn’t have a bleeding heart right now, he should be with Thomas, laughing in bed. He should be eating lunch right now at a surprise picnic with Thomas instead of ignoring the meals outside his door.

   Alastair couldn’t find it in him to get out of bed, he couldn’t find it in him to abandon the place he and Thomas had spent so much time. It felt as if he were giving up on Thomas, on the memories, the whispers, if he were to get out of bed and move on.

   He used to play music when he was upset, his piano was right outside his room but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t play the piano, not after all the songs he made for Thomas that Thomas would never get to hear.

   He won’t play anymore, no one could make him. He only ever wanted to play for Thomas but if he can’t play for him he won’t play for anyone.

Loving you was young, and wild, and free

Loving you was cool, and hot, and sweet

   Thomas closed his eyes tightly, his fisted hands pressing hard into his eyes until he saw stars instead of eyelids. He didn’t want these memories, not anymore, but he couldn’t stop them from flooding in.

   He saw flashes of Paris, Alastair walking excitedly in front of him, the wind blowing his hair around. He saw Alastair’s smile as they snuck into the movie theatre, his free smile as he told Thomas animatedly about how amazing mundanes were to have come up with such a contraption.

   Thomas felt tears cascading down his cheeks as he pictured the lake they had swam in, on a hot day. The cold water felt good on their skin but it felt better when Alastair’s skin was on his. He felt as if he was finally cooling down for once that summer while also getting hotter than he’d ever been as Alastair kissed him passionately, his legs wrapped around Thomas’s middle as he kept them afloat.

   The shy, hesitant kisses they shared in the cover of night. The sweet looks they shared that no one but them understood. Thomas punched the wall trying to draw his physical pain above his emotional pain. He didn’t want to think of their secrets, their inside jokes. 

   He didn’t want to think about Alastair’s carefree smile that only Thomas got to see. He didn’t want to think about the nights where they broke down. He didn’t want to think about the fights they shared when they were under too much pressure. He didn’t want to think about the tears that ran down Alastair’s face the last time he saw him. Thomas didn’t want to think about the way Alastair’s face crumbled when Thomas slammed the door behind him.

   Thomas didn’t want to think.

Loving you was sunshine, safe and sound

A steady place to let down my defenses

But loving you had consequences

   Alastair wanted it back. He wanted Thomas back, the memories, the smiles. He wanted his bright spot back, he was drowning in darkness and Thomas was the only one who was ever able to get him out of it. 

   He wanted to be okay again, he wanted his sanctuary. He wanted that warm safe feeling he always got with Thomas. He wanted Thomas to be there for him like he was when Alastair came out to his father, like he was when Charles wouldn’t leave him alone.

   Alastair was tired of having to hide his emotions, he was tired of hiding himself. He wanted to go back to being able to be himself without fear of judgment when he was with Thomas. He wanted Paris back, being allowed to love mundane things because Thomas understood and liked them too. He missed being able to be himself.

   But loving Thomas came with its faults. The shouting when they should’ve been asleep. Thomas stumbling in late drunk because he was with Matthew. Alastair’s insecurities taking over and making him defensive and mean.

   They had their faults and things that were wrong but Alastair couldn’t help but believe that they were worth the fights, they deserved to be happy and they were happy with each other.

   He just wished Thomas felt that too.

Hesitation, awkward conversation

Running on low expectation

   Thomas hated parties, he hated weddings and meetings. He hated seeing everyone and pretending he was fine when he was falling apart. He hated seeing Alastair who looked just as broken as Thomas did.

   He hated how little he expected from people now, how he felt bad every time he said something jokingly. He hated that he watched what he said around everyone in fear of them being upset by it after having spent so long with Alastair who took everything to heart. 

   Thomas used to think it was endearing, he thought he would be able to show Alastair that Thomas only ever wanted him. He had wanted so many things for Alastair but time wore them down and it became more problematic than endearing.

   He got tired of constantly having to reassure Alastair, he was tired of Alastair being mean when he got defensive.

   He was tired.

Every siren that I was ignoring

I'm payin' for it

   

   Alastair beat himself up for missing the signs. He should’ve seen the red flags. He should have seen the silence for the screams they were. He should have noticed when Thomas spent less time with him. 

   He should have noticed when Thomas started spiraling. He should have noticed Thomas’s tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes instead of the drink in his hand. He should have noticed when Thomas got in his own head.

   Thomas deserved someone who would notice those things and Alastair couldn’t help agreeing that he wasn’t good enough for that. He couldn’t help agreeing that Thomas deserved so much more than him.

Loving you was dumb, dark and cheap

Loving you will still take shots at me

   Thomas cursed himself for falling for Alastair’s sweet words and his secretive personality. He cursed himself for falling into the mysterious boy no one truly knew anything about. Thomas cursed himself for being so dumb and falling for all of Alastair’s tricks, all the lies about love.

   He didn’t want to love Alastair anymore, not after what he said, but the worst part is that he still loved him. He loved Alastair and it would haunt him forever, he wasted so long on a boy who never even loved him. 

   How could Alastair love him if he believed all the rumors. How could Alastair love Thomas and still betray the trust they build. How could Alastair love Thomas and still ruin his parent’s and best friend’s lives?

   He couldn’t. 

Found loving you was sunshine, but then it poured

And I lost so much more than my senses

'Cause loving you had consequences

   Alastair walked around as if nothing ever happened, he smiled at acquaintances, played with his little brother, helped Cordelia.

   He found new sunshine since Thomas had ripped his away. It had been raining so long that he didn’t remember what it was like not to be drowning. He had lost so much when he lost Thomas, he lost parts of himself he didn’t even know about.

   He missed Thomas and didn’t think he’d ever get over it but he learned how to fake it. He learned how to be ‘happy’ around Thomas. He learned how to keep himself together until he was by himself at night. 

   Thomas was happy now and that was all that had ever really mattered. He would have fought for Thomas if he deserved him but Alastair didn’t because he wasn’t.

   He sat and wished more than anything that Thomas would change his mind, that Thomas would realize he still loved Alastair. He waited for it and when it didn’t happen, Alastair realized that he would never stop waiting.

   Alastair would spend forever waiting for Thomas because Thomas was worth that.

[guessmonsta]

YOUR BOKUTO + KUROO WINGMAN FIC WAS SO FUNNY!!!! I was literally laughing the whole way through. The way you write is so funny and wholesome I can't get enough of it. If it's possible, can you please please please do a part two to the Bokuto fic? I just wanna see him fall in love, that's all. Thank you so much!

If you read ANY of my college AU fics involving Bokuto, Kuroo, or Tendou, you know that I made them all friends. They need to be friends, I don’t even care what you say or what you believe. Tendou was cheated from being in the third gym, period. He’s stupid and lovely and has stupid crazy hair and would be best friends with Kuroo and Bokuto instantly. Also this is stupid long, and for what? And for what? I’ll probably end up doing part three too??? And that's being a slut for Bokuto. 

Also here’s part one 

Bokuto stared blankly at his phone screen, almost expecting something to happen without him putting the work in. 

Her contact stared back at him, reading, “__”, with a bunch of heart emojis after her name. He would never admit that he put the hearts there himself, though. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to gain out of just staring at her phone number, his phone wasn’t going to text her itself. To be honest, Bokuto hadn’t created a mental plan past talking to her in the cafe that Saturday,and he sure as hell never expected her to give him her number. He wasn’t even sure how long he was supposed to wait before he texted her. It was Monday morning, had he waited too long? Did she forget about him all together? Does she even want him to text her? 

Bokuto shook his head and sighed, then set his phone face flat on the dining hall table. His friend, Satori, looked up at him, and cocked an eyebrow. 

“Somebody’s got his panties in a twist today.” Satori hummed, setting his own phone down in the same fashion. 

“You think I wear panties?” 

Satori stared at him dumbfounded, then scrunched his face. Choosing to ignore it, he took a jab at his fruit salad, then chuckled. 

“Is it that girl?” 

“Wait, how do you know?” 

“You say this as if Kuroo didn’t post a three minute long video to his snapchat story about spitting up iced coffee everywhere in public.” Satori laughed. 

“Drama queen.” Bokuto sighed. “I just really don’t know how to talk to girls.” 

“You?” Satori cocked his eyebrow again. “You don’t know how to talk to girls?”

“Nope.” 

“Damn.” Satori chuckled again. “See, I was under the notion that you were a popular Pretty Boy in high school. I mean, look at you,” Satori’s eyes scanned Bokuto up and down, then he winked. “You’re like the universal standard for male attractiveness.” 

“I mean, I guess, but,” Bokuto sighed. Getting dejected over nothing wasn’t his plan for this morning, but Satori knew how to handle it. “When I was in high school I never really put a lot of thought into dating girls. Like yeah, I had a couple girlfriends here and there, but, like, volleyball was my real girl, you know?” 

Satori shot Bokuto a stank face, then shook his head. 

“You mean to tell me in high school, in your prime, you could have gotten any girl you wanted and you were the asshole who turned girls down because volleyball came first? Wo-ow, what a problem you have.”

“I know! I know. Now that’s my problem. If I had paid more attention to my relationships in high school then maybe texting this girl wouldn’t be so hard.” Bokuto shrugged. Maybe Satori didn’t know how to handle it all that well, because all he could offer was a confused stank face. 

“Listen, you and I both know that you’re hot. If she gave you her number, then she’s obviously into you. Just shoot you shot.” 

“But I don’t play basketball, Satori!” Bokuto groaned. “And what am I even supposed to say? “Hey remember those two idiots who came in and spit up everywhere? Hi!” 

“Yes! Literally that’s exactly what you should say!” 

“But should I?” 

“God have mercy! You’re hopeless!” Satori sighed dramatically, then flinged a grape off of his plastic fork at Bokuto’s face. Bokuto winced, then ate the grape to spite him. “Oh, and you better get moving, your practice starts in ten minu-utes.” 

Bokuto looked back at his phone, and realized it was 9:50. If he had texted __ now, he would be thinking about her replying all throughout practice. If he had waited to text her until later, he would be thinking about what to say the entire time anyway. It was a lose lose situation for silly little Bokuto in love, he realized. He finished his waffles in a hurry, gave Satori a quick, harsh, and unexpected bro-hug, then jogged off to practice. 

By the time practice was over, Bokuto was sweaty, tired, and couldn’t stop thinking about __. He knew that Kuroo had been watching him all throughout practice, especially when he cackled when he missed a very direct hit on the cleanest set he had ever seen. Kuroo took a seat next to him on the bench, wiped his forehead with a rag, then snapped it against Bokuto’s arm. 

“Ow!” Bokuto jumped, grabbing the towel from Kuroo’s hands then wiping it against Kuroo’s ass as he attempted to jump up and run away. Kuroo cackled again, something he seemed to be doing a lot lately. Bokuto’s crush was a free ticket to Comedy Central for Kuroo. 

“Satori texted me and told me you were a pain in the ass at breakfast.” 

“Did he actually?” Bokuto whined. 

“No.” Kuroo chucked. “But he didn’t have to tell me you were having a crisis for me to know that you’re having a crisis.” 

“You know me that well, bro?” 

“Always, bro.” Kuroo held one hand over his heart, then pat Bokuto on the back. “But you gotta text her.” 

“O-okay, o-okay fi-ine.” Bokuto sighed. “What do I even say?” 

“Listen, just because I’m charming and handsome doesn’t mean that I can carry your entire relationship for you and that lovely little barista.” Kuroo shrugged. “Just be yourself. She obviously likes you.” 

Bokuto whipped his phone out of his pocket, and it automatically opened to __’s contact. Kuroo’s cheeks puffed up into a laugh, then he wheezed, again. Maybe Bokuto had to stop being so obvious. 

Bokuto clicked the message icon, and quickly, without even thinking, typed- 

Hey __! It’s Owlboy Sexyman from the cafe Saturday. How are you!

And he sent it. Without a second thought. He sighed, then set his phone down on the bench. 

Before Kuroo could even ask him what he sent, he heard his phone chime. Bokuto gasped, then Kuroo gasped, and Bokuto leaped for his phone. 

Hey Bokuto! 

I was starting to think you didn’t see my number on the cup lmao 

“She remembers my name!” Bokuto beamed. “She remembers my name, Kuroo! Oh my god!” 

Bokuto jumped up from the bench, and turned his screen to Kuroo. 

“Oh my god, dude, stop, stop, I can’t read the message, you’re jumping too much.” Kuroo laughed. “What did she say!” 

Bokuto tossed his phone at Kuroo, then clapped his hands together into a praying motion. 

Kuroo read the messages, then cocked an eyebrow. 

“Du-ude.”

“Du-ude!” Bokuto couldn’t stop beaming.

“Bokuto, where the hell was this energy during practice!” An older teammate shouted at him, then laughed. Bokuto ignored this statement completely. Once he got the ball moving, it was going to keep its momentum. 

Later at his dorm, Bokuto sat on his bed with his phone in his hands. He felt like he looked like his little sister. She used to spend all day in her room snapchatting boys and trying to find the perfect lighting to take pictures of herself. He never really understood it, but as he was sitting here waiting for a text back from __, he felt that same energy. 

He had never really liked a girl this much ever before in his life. He wasn’t even sure what it was. What went from a small admiration over how beautiful and sweet she looked behind the counter at the cafe turned into a full blown admiration after his minute long conversation with her. Everything about her was just so cool, so collected, she made him feel the same way volleyball made him feel, how he felt when he saw a cute dog when he was out on a jog. She was the first day of summer and waking up on Christmas morning. He could feel his excitement for her vibrate all the way to his fingertips. 

You remembered my name! 

Of course I do! You and your friend literally made my entire day on Saturday, haha. 

I went back to my dorm and told my roommates the whole story lmao

Do you go to Todai? 

Yeah! I’m in my first year. What about you? 

Me too! 

Sucks I’ve never seen you around. 

Todai is so big I feel like if you see somebody once you never see them again. 

I’ll keep a look out for you tho ;) 

Where do you dorm? 

I’m in Komaba on the 20th floor :( 

I love the view but some days the elevators are full so I have to take the stairs and it’s terrible 

I’m at Komaba too! 

But on the fourth floor haha 

I guess it’s a nice workout though 

I haven’t been doing much exercise since volleyball ended in high school 

Do you still play? 

Yeah, Kuroo and I are on the schools team 

Oh

Kuroo is the guy who spit everywhere 

Kuroo’s a legend

I thank him for his service 

And that's seriously super cool. I wasn’t good enough to play for college, haha. 

I miss it though

Well, if you were busy playing volleyball, you wouldn’t have anytime to be the cutest barista ever 

As soon as Bokuto sent the message, he regretted it. Was that really all he had to say to her?

Omg, awh, don’t flatter me

We should meet up! What are you up to right now? 

Bokuto felt his face flush a thousand degrees. He had no idea how to contain his excitement around her, let alone his obvious crush. A small giggle escaped him as he typed back. 

I’m honestly doing nothing but texting you in my dorm right now. 

Me too, haha

We should go get food or something together! 

My next class isn’t till 3

Before Bokuto could even ask her what her room number was, he found himself running up sixteen flights of stairs to meet her. Where this sudden adrenaline came from, he had no idea, and if any of the older guys on the team saw him, they would tease him more about not using this energy in practice. Once he reached the twentieth floor, he was breathless. The whole thing gave him flashbacks to running to meet Kuroo a couple days before. All he wanted right now was to see her. 

He looked down at his phone, then typed a quick, 

What's your dorm number? 

I’m in room 2016 :) 

Two seconds later, Bokuto found himself standing in front of the door, and knocking lightly. He heard something crash from the inside, and a small string of mumbled curses. When the door opened up in front of him, his heart skipped three beats when his eyes met hers. 

She was significantly shorter than him, by a foot, if he was guessing right. Her hair was down and cascaded over her shoulders, something he hadn’t seen before. Somehow, she was even prettier with her hair down than she was worth it pulled back for work. Pretty __ eyes blinked once, twice, and a small, confused smile parted into a laugh. 

“How the hell did you get up here this quick?” She chuckled, motioning for him to step inside the dorm. “Are you secretly superman and you’re not telling me?” 

“If I told you I ran up here before I asked for your room number, would that be weird?” He sighed. He was still a little bit breathless, but the last thing he wanted was to lose his composure. She took a seat on her desk chair, and spun herself around in a circle before stopping and shaking her head. 

“Nah, I’ll take it. I don’t like superman anyway. Now, if you had said Thor, that’s a different story.” She giggled. “You didn’t have to sprint up here you know. I could’ve met you in the dining hall.” 

Bokuto honestly hadn’t even realized that was an option, even though it was much more realistic. He hadn’t even realized he was standing in the prettiest girl in the world’s bedroom until his eyes met hers again. 

Oh god, and she was so pretty. He could hear Kuroo and Satori mocking him in the back of his head as he stared at her pushing herself into another circle in her desk chair. 

“I know I didn’t have to.” He said, his voice almost cracking. “But I figured you’d like it.” Smooth recovery. 

“Honestly?” She shrugged, “I can’t say somebody has ever ran up sixteen flights of stairs for me, so yeah. I take it as an honor” 

__ then stood up, then led Bokuto out of her dorm. 

“We can take the elevator down this time.” 

“Thank god.” Bokuto sighed. “No offense, but 32 flights of stairs isn’t worth it for anyone.” 

“Hey, I get it. Three flights of stairs isn’t worth it for me, so you’re already breaking a record.” 

At the dining hall, they just talked about little things. Where they went to high school, what they were majoring in, their favorite animal, which both happened to be dogs, and what type of dogs they liked. They shared funny stories from high school, like the time Kuroo accidentally swallowed a beetle at training camp, and she told a shocking story about the “accident” at her own school. He was so interested in talking to her that he forgot that he was supposed to be eating, and he never forgets about that. 

Their relationship was obviously flirtatious, but Bokuto couldn’t tell if she was flirting with him in the way Kuroo flirted with people, or in a way where she actually liked him. In bed that night, the last thing he thought about was her sitting across from him in the dining hall, and he had a feeling his mind would replay her face for a while.

[teenagebeautyqueen]

[Image description: a young person holds a mobile phone with a blue case and a paper on the other. the paper has a drawing of an umbrella colored with the trans pride flag. we can only see their upper body. they are looking down and to the left of the image. they're smiling without showing their teeth, and look relaxed. they're wearing a black, loose hoodie and some shorts can be seen at the bottom of the picture. they're also using black nail polish. on the background there is a door and a star wars poster. the other image is a close up of the paper. end ID]

🌈ʜᴇ/ᴛʜᴇʏ🌈

happy trans day of visability to all my fellow trans*!! here is me and my project for peace's day... i personally love it. it's on spanish, but i'll translate it for y'all.

the text on the left says "cada persona que conoces está luchando una batalla de la que no sabes nada. sé amable. siempre", which is the translation of that quote that goes like "every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. be kind. always".

the one on the right says "¿qué sentido hay en pelear? ¿por qué insistimos en sabotearnos mutuamente? Todos caminamos por el mismo sendero embarrado, todos nos dirigimos al mismo final." its translation is something like "what's the point on fighting? why do we insist on sabotage each other? we all walk the same muddy path, we are all headed for the same end."

and above the umbrella there's words like "odio", "acoso", "ignorancia" & "discriminación", which mean "hatred", "harassment", "ignorance", and "discrimination".

yeah i'm very subtle.

i've decided to share my story with the world. but i got kinda carried away. it's not s fairy tale, so don't read it if you're sensitive to themes like bullying, mental health issues, and toxic people.

——————————————————————

it's been... one ride of a journey, to say the least. i've said a few times that i started to question my gender around summer. but that's not quite true.

growing up, i never was fond of... anything that i associated with femenine, really. this included, but wasn't limited to, any color that wasn't blue (pink and purple get a special mention, i despised them), flowers, clothes too loose or too tight, shorts if they weren't from some sport, etc. i think you get the idea.

this collided with me being afab (aka a girl for everyone including myself) & neurodivergent. i wanted nothing to do with those things. but society wanted me to love them.

5 yo me said she didn't like Monster High. 5 yo female classmate said i was a weirdo. 7 yo me loved football. 7 yo male classmate said i couldn't play because i was a girl. 9 yo me hyperfixated on minecraft. 9 yo pretty much every classmate called me a geek.

so i stoped trying. for a while, i loved pink, wanted to have rapunzel's hair, watched disney channel, etc. but i already was the weirdo. i remember being three and friends with all of them. i remember playful fights for the toy rocket and reading books with the only other boy who could read, to ourselves, each other, and the whole class. but people grow up, and they change. so yeah, i was bullied. always the last one to be chosen, left alone on the bus rides, on my own at the playground.

and you'll be thinking "that sucks, but pao, how is it related to you being trans?"

you'll see, i didn't have many friends. i was kinda alone until i turned 7. then two new kids came to my class. let's call them eva and john. i made friends with them asap. i loved them so much!! they were my first friends since kindergarden. so i allowed myself to let go. i was already hated by most of my peers. why wouldn't i be myself with those who didn't despise me? (i was 7 when i thought this. 7 years old, and i thought that out of 20 people, 18 hated me. and then people wonder why i've got self-steem issues lmao. i'm tryna make the point that bullying in primary school isn't just some mean kids calling you names. i'm currently in high school and it still has its mark on me. but that's for another moment.)

so yeah. i went "wild". eva has adhd too (noice, right? i mean she has her diagnosis becaise she's primarly hyperactive, while i'm primarly inattentive, but we understood each other way quickier than with neurotypicals– even if i didn't know why yet), and john was kinda shy & corpulent (he wasn't fat, but he didn't look slim either), just like me. so we became friends. and i slowly opened up a little, while still playing my role of "the freak kid". i knew i was seen as that AND as the smart kid. double pressure, double bullying. but i had my small circle. it evolved until my current friend group, in which, god bless, there's a trans girl!! (eva's still on it– she's my best friend and i would die for her, no doubts. john can go fuck himself, the goddamned fascist).

but it ain't that easy. it never is. i'm 14 and afab. shit happens. y'all get it.

my first period happened while i was on a school trip (bad), on a hotel with no pads avaliable (very bad), on another country so i couldn't call my mum unless i had wifi because politics & stuff– and i did not have wifi (really bad). cue a lot of dysphoria (even if i didn't know it was that) + not being able to contact anyone. add the fact that i was the second one to have it, and it was some kind of taboo– it meant the other girls wouldn't leave me alone, and the result is clear: one of my worst panic attacks ever, on a tiny bathroom of some shitty hotel room.

from there it went downhill. my body started to become femenine, and the football short didn't make my hips smaller. my face, my oh so alarged face, suddenly became rounder. puberty hit me not only physically, but emotionally. and if that wasn't enough, we, as a class, were entering what's called here "the turkey age", a.k.a. teenagerhood, where looks become even more important. it didn't take long until i hated my body.

[WARNING: from here, this gets hard. mentions of eating disorders, depressive episodes/thoughts, toxic enviroments, homophobia/transphobia (both internalized and external), anxiety attacks, and thoughts of self-harm]

i thought "it's big, it shouldn't be big, it's fat. besides i don't want it to grow so fast. i want to make it stop growing. how? well, i grow up by eating. no eating=no growing".

yeah. eating disorder. when i think about it, i want to laugh. because it only took a few comments and "jokes" for me to be so angry at myself when i should be mad with them. i'm big. always have been, very likely always will. i've been told that i could make a very good rugby player. i probably would. i shared my cantine table with people (😔). and they wouldn't shut up. "[deadname], the rest wants to eat too!", "look at [deadname], she's gonna eat it all!". things like that. i stoped eating. i would pick up the smallest amount of food i could, even if my stomach was begging me to please eat something. eventually, my mum found out. and she helped me to grow out of it. i sometimes releapse, but never for that long. because i went on a whole year like that. and it sucked.

so, last year. socially anxious neurodivergent girl with several doubts on her sexuality gets to eight grade.

i play basketball. since i was little. i used to enjoy it a lot. we weren't a team– we were a family. loved 'em so much, 1000/10 one of the best things of my life. BOOM. now you're old enough & good enough to be on the "good" team. in the good time there's the cool kids. i am not a cool kid. oops. i was left behind, they all laughed at my back, no one cared about me (except one girl, but she was in the group and was scared to act until almost the end of the year. love her for that tho). i felt like shit. i was too scared to go to train. the sight of a ball scared me, because i couldn't help but think everyone was talking shit about me. we went to a national championship and when they went out to the city, they didn't tell me, then sent a pic of them having fun to the groupchat & delated it saying "oops it was for the other group". i had several breakdowns on my room that night. it was such a bad experience i can't even hear the name of the city without tearing up.

not to count that a new girl decided to make my life a living hell. now i know how to deal with her, but then i didn't, and i ended up curled up on the bathroom floor crying.

all while i discovered my own identity. i was so scared of being non-straight i hated myself for it.

it was a tough year and there were times where i would wish i'd never existed. it was too much for me to deal with, and i was just miserable. but i got out of it. remember the trans girl i mentioned? she's closeted, and she told me just this october. but even before that, she was my friend. she bought a new life to it all, a fresh one. i owe her a lot, including accepting myself as i am.

she is here, despite everything.

i am here, despite everything.

you are all here, despite everything.

some of us aren't here. they are the ones we remember. each one of us has our history. i shared mine with you all. it is not an easy road. you know that. it's hard, and it's tough, and it's difficult, and it's unfair.

but we are here, despite everything. the ones who made it, the ones who didn't, the ones who are halfway through it, and the ones who are to come.

we are here. we are trans. and we won't be erased.

[rilojetty]

a haunted man who can't out run his ghosts

Doe Madeira was the same as she had always been.  Short, but loud.  Hands on her hips, sunglasses perched atop her head.  A girl on a mission, and it occurred to Rilo then and there, seeing her from across the venue, that he’d never really known her as anything other than Preston’s.

Why was she here?  That was the real question.  That was the child tugging the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt, nagging him with a query he couldn’t answer.

She was tapping something out on her phone, blowing a pristine bubble with her gum that he could even see from where he was hovering in the wings of the stage.  He did this before every single show.  It didn’t matter how large or small the crowd was, the sheer fact that anybody would ever be here for him was enough to knock him on his ass.

But, for Doe to be here?  Here in Santa Monica, when he knew for all too well of a fact that she was in college on the east coast?  Why?  What was her motive?  Was she alone?  Was he here, too?

Of course he wasn’t.  Preston Raimi was nothing more than a ghost in his hallway at this point.  A glimpse of a past life, a former Rilo that didn’t exist anymore.  He wouldn’t dive under his sheets and find him waiting for him, not anymore.  Not for a long time.

When he was younger, twenty and high on life, Preston was the harbor lights that he always found his way back to.  Warm and comforting, like a much-needed embrace after a long day.  Preston was eighteen, a freshman, and somehow he’d gotten it into his brain that he’d lucked out with getting Rilo to look his way.  If only he could have realized how backwards he’d had it all.

It occurred to him, then, that he didn’t really know Doe.  He knew the Doe from Preston’s stories.  He knew the girl who had flashed her tenth grade English teacher so that Preston could slip late into class undetected.  He knew her as Preston’s first kiss, first time, first love, really – even if Preston would never say those last few words out loud.  And yet, just from looking at her, it was like he’d met her a thousand times before, a thousand lifetimes ago.  Instead, he’d only met her once, right near the end of his and Preston’s romantic residency.

She’d surprised him with a visit, and Rilo was convinced in that moment that he could have been blind as shit and still been able to detect the magnetism that existed between the two of them.  Doe wedged her way between the two of them, staking back her rightful claim as Preston’s person.  Suddenly, she was the one adjusting his hair, the one dragging him this way and that way, and Rilo slipped back into the shadows of his apartment just long enough for them to get reacquainted.

It was during that time that he took another look at the offers he’d been getting in from record labels.  Somewhere between Doe prattling onto Preston about how he had to transfer schools to save her before she dropped out and Preston shuffling awkwardly on his feet as his hand found its way to the small of her back when he didn’t catch Rilo looking his way, Rilo accepted the offer to record a demo with an indie label in Los Angeles.

After that, he and Preston were becoming two ships passing in the night rather than anything else.  He could see the expiration date on their relationship even if Preston was trying to put a sticker over it.  He saw the NYU tabs open on Preston’s phone before Preston could swipe away from them, Preston could see Rilo slipping away from them, spending more time in the studio and less time in the cramped twin-sized bed that was more comfortable than the queen mattress on Rilo’s apartment floor just because it was Preston’s.

“We’ll keep in touch,” Preston was promising against his mouth as April turned to May, as his room became stripped of his Hoodie Allen posters (yes, seriously) and his headphones and stacks of mixtapes that nobody besides Preston still made – replaced with boxes and boxes and more boxes.  “I’ll spend the whole summer making tapes for my rock star boyfriend, writing you love letters and shit.  It’ll be disgusting.”

Preston sounded so hopeful and sure of himself, sure of their chances, that Rilo almost believed him.  Almost, but not quite.

The last time Rilo Jetty saw Preston Raimi was at LAX.  Preston had a beanie of Rilo’s atop his head, damn near chewing a hole into is lip.  Rilo wanted to hate Doe, wanted to hate her with every vein in his body, for taking Preston away from him, for being able to sweet talk Preston into a time zone three hours ahead of his own.  He couldn’t, though, because it wasn’t her fault.  Preston didn’t have to follow her.  No.  No, it wasn’t Preston’s fault, either.  Maybe this was never supposed to be a permanent thing, only temporary.  Rilo was a stamp in Preston’s passport and Preston was a chapter in Rilo’s life story.  God, he wished he didn’t want him to be the whole book.

Preston’s hands slid up to rest on either side of Rilo’s cheeks, and Rilo reciprocated by hugging him tightly around the waist.  “Tell New York to be good to you,” he murmured against Preston’s temple, pressing a kiss there shortly after.

“Tell LA I hate it for getting to have you,” Preston grumbled back, and Rilo could have kissed him a thousand times.  Wished he’d taken him out of that airport and to the cocoon of his apartment.  They could make it their apartment.  He could get Preston signed to the label when he had enough seniority to make that sort of a move.  Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

Preston slipped into airport security, and Rilo followed him until he lost him as the glass window turned to a wall, until he was out of sight.

His best friend, Darcy, would tell him it was just the latest of many fuck-ups he’d accomplished.  Afterwards, she’d pour him a shot – or five – and they’d put on the same shitty Netflix movie they’d watched a thousand times before.  Preston sent pictures from the plane, from the airport, from the ride to his new apartment that Rilo knew better than to ask with whom he’d be sharing it.

“You know, people do long distance relationships all the time and survive them,” Darcy pointed out, looking over at the kicked puppy staring down at his phone, brows furrowed.  “Like, all the time.  There’s, iMessage, and FaceTime, and even that dumbass app that lets you send your heartbeat to another person.  Apple is tailor-made for LDRs.”  She reached into the bowl of Lays, popping a few into her mouth and not waiting to keep going, her words coming through crunches.  “You’ll be fine.”  A beat later, and she was continuing.  “And also, you’re, like, twenty-one.  Calm down.  Stop looking at apartments in New York,” she wrangled the phone away from his house, and he realized that she’d been kidding until she actually saw the tabs open on his phone.

A pat on her shoulder, a gentle, “Oh, buddy,” and then she was back to the movie staring ahead of him – sitting on his phone.

Anyway, that had been a long time ago.  A whole ‘nother Rilo had lived through that first heartbreak than the Rilo standing backstage, looking at Doe Madeira in the crowd.

She wasn’t alone, he quickly noticed.  She was with a tall blonde and a girl with short cropped hair, each of them nursing a glass and Doe peering around the stage like she expected to see somebody looking back at her.

He averted his gaze before she could get to his silhouette, the stage lights dimming a moment later and his guitar finding its rightful place around his shoulders.  He was at the freaking El Rey Theatre, for crying out loud.  He was celebrating a new album release tonight and doing a “hometown show” as his agent called it.  LA wasn’t his hometown.  His hometown was a small-town way up fucking north in Washington, where nobody ever visited.  But this was the first big venue he’d ever booked, six years ago (six. years. ago.) so “in a way, it’s like going home again!”

Rilo wasn’t sure where home was anymore, but he went on that stage anyway.  Eyes sparked with tears as soon as he heard the crowd waiting for him.  It happened every time he went on stage, every time he was reminded of the fact that this was his life now.  People actually gave a shit about him.  People actually wanted to see him, hear him.

Everyone, that is, except the one person he wanted to be there.

He ignored the knot in his stomach, started strumming the chords to the first song that had ever gotten him anywhere.  I Want to Write You a Song, the first thing he’d ever written for Preston.  It was like, despite everything, he was here on stage with him after all.

✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤  

Rilo had stopped doing stage doors a long time ago, once his team had decided it wasn’t really something he could safely get away with anymore, but tonight, he was making an exception.  He signed every autograph, posed for every selfie and every boomerang and recorded video messages for moms and brothers and boyfriends.  He was out there for well over two hours, he was getting to everyone.  If nothing else, it was a good distraction from who’d been in the crowd tonight.

He tried really hard to not think about Preston more than he had to.  It didn’t matter if he was the muse for every aching song he’d written in the past few years.  Preston was someone he kept buried inside a mental filing cabinet.  Preston was just for him.  Not for the girl who was still fucking hovering alongside the brick wall, giggling with her friends and stealing glances Rilo’s way.

Why.  Was she.  Here?

Where was Preston?  He could argue with himself that maybe Preston and Doe had fallen out of touch, but he would know just the same that that was absolutely not true – not only because they’d been friends since they were damn near in diapers, but because he’d… maybe looked Preston up on social media when he shouldn’t have.  He still saw his life in the fragments that Preston chose to share with the world.  He saw him in Union Square, had screen recorded a video of him flawlessly rapping Ice Ice Baby to his followers and another of him and Doe dancing to “It’s Tricky” by Run DMC at their friends’ wedding.

So, why wasn’t he here?  Where was he?  Did he know Doe was here?  Here, in California, at his show… did he know?

He finished up with the last round of fans, telling them to get home safe as they dispersed down the side streets in every which way.  He was turning back for the door, and then he heard her.

“Good show tonight, Jetty.”

He paused, hand hanging in the air from where it was reaching to head back inside.  He turned to look at her, at Doe.  Cute as shit, looking back at him expectantly.  If he was a narcissist, he’d assume that she figured he didn’t remember her.  But he knew that she knew he did.

And so, he didn’t play dumb, even though he was great at doing just that.  “You’re pretty far from New York.”

Her eyebrows raised, impressed.  “Long story,” she said dismissively, lifting her shoulders into a shrug.  “I mean, I couldn’t miss the Rilo Jetty’s homecoming show.”  A beat, and she was continuing.  “Not because, like, I couldn’t, but because Tedster over here wouldn’t allow it.”

The tall blonde at her side was blushing, face breaking into a smile when Rilo met her gaze.  “Big fan, bigger loser.  Hi.  Teddy.”

“Rilo,” he responded autonomously, and she gave him the most bewildered face in response.  Of course you’re Rilo, he could hear her words bouncing around his mind without her having to say a word.

“We’re not actually in LA for your show,” she spilled out, blushing even under the streetlights.  “Our friend’s getting married and taking her to Disneyland seemed like a safer bachelorette party than Vegas.”

“Because I’d never go to Vegas,” the third girl, the one with the short hair, crowed in an unmissable Irish accent, looking at her two friends in disbelief.  He realized that she looked familiar, as did Teddy.  Maybe they’d shown up in Preston’s Instagram posts – he knew he’d never really spent much time checking through Doe’s pages, only ever if he was too drunk, reflecting on the past too much.  “I’m much more content with Chip and Dale than Chippendales.”

Doe scrunched up her nose.  “As if anyone goes and watches Chippendales when Thunder from Down Under is right there.”

Rilo felt out of place in the conversation, smiling shyly back at them.  “Well, congrats.  Chip and Dale are…definitely the better option.  You’ve got a point.” Doe rolled her eyes, smirking between the two of them.  “You know, Cait, you should probably send him an invite.”

The girl, Cait, apparently, looked at Doe in shock.  Her eyes flicked between Doe and Rilo in embarrassment.  

“Obviously I wouldn’t send you a wedding invite,” she argued.  Her blush went deeper.  “Not that you don’t deserve…” she whipped back around to Doe.  “Why would I invite Rilo Jetty to my wedding?”

Doe had a glint in her eyes, one of mischief, and her eyes flicked back over to Rilo.  “He’s old friends with your groom.”

It pieced together, then.  Why she looked familiar.  Where he’d seen her.  The last time he’d looked on Preston’s page had been a particular weak moment just after his birthday, just after Valentine’s Day.  Her hair had been longer, then, and she’d been the focus of a film photo on Preston’s page, laughing at him, weakly holding her hand in front of her face like she didn’t want her picture taken.

He didn’t need to ask who the groom was.  He knew.

Maybe he did hate Doe Madeira.  Just a little.

[propshophannah]

Hey:) so I have extremely bad periods like I mean I get really high fevers, chills, throw up, extremely dizzy and extremely confused every single day I'm on it. Not to mention I get the worst cramps ever that I can't stand that I've been sent to the hospital for and that's saying a lot seeing as I'm really good with dealing with pain. I've tried meditation to help with it, I've tried those stupid remedies you find on the internet I've tried literally everything including birth control 1/?

The pill& the shot which I’m currently getting every 3 months and they haven’t worked. It extended my period from the regular 3 days up to 2 weeks (the shot) and my doctor refuses to try anything else because I’m 17 and “I won’t know if I’ll want children in the future” which I’ve explained countless times that I like girls & I strongly dislike kids so the chances of me getting pregnant when I’m older are close to none but nooo like it’s so bad I’d honestly rather get run over by a train than 2/ 

Deal with it. Like I’m at a loss here it’s so bad I’ve missed a little over half my school year last year I was absent so much due to it I got kicked out of my classes bc the school thought I was just skipping when in reality I literally couldn’t move from my bed. So now I’m a full year behind in school and I’m frustrated and don’t know what to do. I’ve been following you for a while and you seem like the older sister/mom/cool aunt type of the fandom and I was wondering if you had any ideas ¾

And/or advice? (Sorry for the long question I saw you were answering questions and thought I’d ask)

—-

Woof. Not to freak you out—cuz I’m NOT a doctor—but this sounds like it could be some kind of menstrual disorder or something. If I were you, I’d find a new doctor.

That’s not to say that the doctor you have is not good, but sometimes a fresh pair of eyes/a second opinion can be life changing. Different people notice different things. So a new doctor might look at your case and know exactly what to do about it. You may need to see some kind of specialist, too. I’m not sure what kind of tests your ob/gyn has done, but I’ve known a few girls who had benign cysts on their ovaries and stuff that caused them to have HORRIBLE and debilitating periods. It could be something like that.

As far as the options outside of birth control, I assume you’re talking about permanently stopping your periods? (Cuz getting your tubes tied wont stop you from having a period.) There are birth controls that stop you from getting a period. I know the shot ones (which you said you’re on one of those) has options for totally stopping periods. I assume it can probably take a few rounds tho before its fully effective. But AGAIN not a medical doctor over here.

If you’re not satisfied, I’d say get a new doctor. If you like your doctor, then maybe you need to ask about seeing a specialist. I’m not sure what kind of specialists exist for bad periods, but I know they exist. A specialist would also be the gatekeeper for more extreme methods—such as a medical procedure or something that could stop your periods. They’re your best bet the get an insurance company to cover that kind of thing too. But also a specialist might be more actively aware of rare conditions or disorders that regular ob/gyns only read about a few times in a textbook in medical school. So again, second opinions are important. 

Also broaden your search. It might not be as period focused an illness as you and your doctor think it is. It could have something to do with pain receptors or something in your brain not getting the right signal when you get your period. If that makes sense? Example: (again not a doctor!) Lets say your body starts to get a normal period like everyone else, but this one little nerve (or whatever) in your brain misreads the monthly cycle information and overloads your body/part of the brain (again NOT a doctor) with too much a certain type of hormone or chemical. This results in you on the floor in pain, vomiting, with a fever for one week a month. Stranger shit has happened. So it might be that you need to start searching for other causes or change the conversation on how both you and your doctor focus on this problem.

The last thing I’d say, which is certainly a last resort, would be trying to get in with a specialist at the Mayo Clinic. It would likely take months and months to get an appointment, but if you’ve exhausted all your other options, I’d say go for it. 

This derails a bit but it might help you:

God. I’m really sorry this has been your experience with your period. Like this fucking sucks. IT SUCKS to feel like your body isn’t working correctly and that you’re not crazy when you say you want an immediate fix right now. I’m guess I feel like the only procedure that could stop your periods that a doctor would tell you no on would be a hysterectomy or something like that?? And honestly, I get why a doctor would say that to a 17-year-old. 

BUUUT, to that doctor, I’d drop the argument about knowing you don’t like kids and don’t want them. Because it’s too easy for people to excuse that as “typical” teenage behavior. So I’d reframe that argument in a way that is still true, but I’d say it in a way that a older person/doctor might be more receptive to hearing. 

FOR INSTANCE. I might frame my argument for more extreme options not as “I know I don’t want kids” but as a personal life-sacrifice I’m willing to make in order to have the chance at living a normal, full life.

I’d say that my periods are debilitating, humiliating, and have been infringing upon the quality of my life since they started. I’d say that when I was 13 (or whatever age you were before you got your period), I couldn’t wait to be 17 years old. I couldn’t wait to go to school and drive a car, to hang out at the beach or pool in the summer without a chaperone. I was excited about the future and the prospect of which university I’d attend and what it’d be like to leave home for the first time… But after years of suffering with debilitating periods, I no longer have that outlook on life. Because of my paralyzing periods (I’d maybe find a better phrase for periods but you get my drift), I spent my teen years watching from the sidelines. Then I’d go into the moments when you missed out on basic teenage life experiences your female peers did not. (I’d go traditional too. Meaning that because I live in America, I’d pick things that seem “All America” like football games, prom/school dances, going to the beach, playing sports etc.).

I’d paint a NICE picture about how your periods have been a “cancer” on your adolescence. How they’ve robbed you of opportunities everyone else got. I’d talk about how you’re now a year behind and how embarrassing that is and how you’re not going to graduate with your friends and AAAALLLLL that jazz.

You gotta frame your argument the right way. Make your horrible periods the invading army that must be stopped. It’s not that you don’t want to have kids, it’s that your quality of life has been so drastically altered by paralyzing and debilitating periods, that you’re willing to sacrifice a piece of your body to find inner peace and for the *opportunity* to live a normal life, for the *chance* to get back your youth, for the *change* to get some good years out of life, to salvage what’s left of your golden years. 

I would be careful NOT to play the victim—you’re the hopeful teenager willing to sacrifice in order for the *opportunity at living a normal life.*

And I would 100% practice NOT bringing up the not wanting children thing. I’d come up with a scripted answer to that argument from the doctor too. Gell, I’d come up with talking points and mock answers to questions. JESUS. This could be looked at as essentially a PR problem. And this has derailed a lot, but hopefully this might help you.